Blue-Green Eyes, Fierce and Wise
by 0MoonAndSun0
Summary: A dark shadow slips into Kirkwall, weary from the Blight, longing for companions. Her soul was looking for relief from war, but found only more work to be done in the City of Chains. Stepping down from leadership, to support the next Champion. Rated M for adult content, much romance. Should be updated on weekends! Please enjoy while we wait for that damned Dread Wolf
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Dragon Age has been one of my favorite games to date, and I've been writing this fic for a few years now, in between my other fics. I've returned to it recently with the announcement of the next game (*heart burns hole through chest as it attempts to flee from the inevitable heartbreak*) and I figured I may as well share my stories as we wait.

This story is only slightly AU, with changes to the timeline and a few other changes here and there to accommodate my OC. This fic spans all three current games (Origins, 2, and Inquisition), starting somewhere in the beginning of 2 and continuing into Inquisition.

I have written many more chapters to this story already, and I am going through and editing them as I post, so it is safe to say that I will post a new chapter every weekend.

I have so enjoyed writing this story, please enjoy reading it, and please offer any thoughts/questions/critiques/suggestions in the comments! Have a wonderful day and take care of yourself!

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A cold mist had rolled into the dark city, like a foreboding greeting. The tall, shackled buildings creaked in the wind, the only sound save for the scream of a mouse being hunted by a stray cat. Lyra's first impression of the place was less than inviting.

She crouched on top of the buildings, blending in to the darkness, thanks to her attire. She shifted slightly to keep her legs from falling asleep, her toes in her light leather boots feeling the shingles of the tilted roof she was on. Her hood fell over her eyes, the bottom half of her face feeling the wind of the night chill.

The dark was the deep, silent darkness of late night, when only the wind had the courage to show its face; not like the comforting darkness of late evening, early night. Those were still full of a possibility of action. Lyra's night had already had plenty of action in it, enough for a couple of nights.

 _More like a whole month of nights._

She felt the fatigue weigh on her senses and her muscles, but she focused on her breathing to keep her alert.

 _The last thing I can afford right now is to become complacent on the night of an assassination._

She reached over her shoulder and silently pulled an arrow from her quiver, the feather fletchings feeling comfortable and familiar in her fingers. Her bow lay next to her on the roof, strung and ready, like it had been for the last hour or so that she had been waiting here.

 _My information shouldn't be wrong._

The note she had pickpocketed from the noble a few hours ago was a scrawled letter, describing the route his men were to take on their way to the slums.

The thought of the noble and his note made her brow furrow into a glare.

The note instructed his men to search the poor district of Kirkwall for a young homeless girl, who wouldn't be missed by anyone ' of importance'. The intentions the noble had for the girl were evident, and thus was Lyra's motivation for looking into him and his men and waiting on a roof in the deep night.

 _I haven't been in this city for more than a week and I already can't keep my nose out of other people's' business._

Lyra stroked the feathers on her favorite arrow.

 _Well, as long as you keep your business away from kidnapping young girls, I'll leave you greedy rich bastards alone._

A shift in the wind made Lyra look up from her arrow and down to the street. Her eyes were adjusted to the dark, but the bright flame from someone's torch illuminated the street with its flickering shadows. 10 men followed the one holding the torch, and they moved along the street quickly, knowing their destination. All were heavily armored and heavily armed.

 _Three with bows, four with swords, three with daggers, and the one holding the torch has a mace._

Lyra's instincts flashed awake in an instant, and she crouched lower as she readied her bow. Her favorite arrow was cocked into position, and she calmly pulled it back silently, aiming with confidence toward the man with the torch.

 _Take out their sight._

"Stop right there, humans." A deep voice caught her attention and stayed her hand, drawing both her gaze and the gazes of the men she was about to kill towards an alley where the voice came from. A single male elf walked out into the light confidently, his armor advanced and his bright white hair illuminated. He carried a very large two handed sword, and Lyra could see from where she was hidden on the rooftops the amount of anger emitting from the man.

"You all were about to head to the slums to kidnap an innocent girl."

The accusation was lined with hatred. The man with the torch stepped forward.

"That's none of your business, elf." The man pulled out his mace. "And so what if we are? Back off or I'll bring our boss your head, along with a dirty bitch from the slums." Lyra watched him shake his head. "Though I doubt our boss would care about some stupid knife-ear."

The insult physically affected the elf, and she watched as his veins seemed to glow bright blue. Her eyes widened as she continued to watch silently.

 _Magic?_

"I was going to let you go if you had turned around." The elf said in a calm voice as he unsheathed his giant sword, stepping forward on bare feet. "But now I'm glad I'll get to kill you."

The elf darted towards the group of men and swung his weapon in an arc before the men could react. A loud wet crunch emitted as the sword landed into the side of the neck of the man holding the torch, instantly killing him and causing the torch to fall to the ground. The moving light source caused a flurry of shadows as the rest of the men grabbed their weapons and yelled angrily. The elf swung his sword again and killed two men in one swing, and the others tried to compose themselves and spread out away from the elf's range.

Lyra crouched, poised, ready to shoot in an instance, watching the events curiously.

 _And here I thought this would be a boring assassination._

The elf managed to kill two more and received a few blows to his arms and chest, but he moved with the grace of a skilled sword fighter. Lyra watched as the men circled the elf and took turns striking. He defended himself well enough, but Lyra could see that his defense would soon wear down.

One of the men backed away from the circle and strung his bow, while the elf received a few more blows from the circling men. Lyra furrowed her brow.

 _This is bad for him._

She watched him kill one more man and injure another, but the archer drew his bow and aimed at the elf when he was turned away.

Without thinking, Lyra pulled an arrow back and released it in a split second, killing the archer instantly by an arrow through his neck. She immediately darted to the side on the dark rooftop, moving to stay hidden.

The elf glanced over at the fallen archer and made the connection, before glancing up to the rooftops to where she was. The distraction gave the soldier behind him an advantage and he advanced with a raised sword.

Lyra pulled another arrow out and shot that man instantly, saving the elf's life once again.

Three more men were left, with one injured. The elf warded them off and Lyra shot down two more when they were behind him. He stabbed the last one through the chest and pulled his sword from him as he fell, making the street silent once again.

Lyra watched from the shadows.

The elf looked around at the carnage before looking around at the surrounding rooftops, knowing his helper was somewhere up there.

"Thank you, stranger. I had thought I could take them on my own." He spoke into the chilly night air.

Lyra watched him silently, regarding him from the shadows. She sensed no ill intent from him, despite having just killed many men.

 _I understand why he killed them all. For the same reason I was going to._

"You are a skilled marksman, stranger. You have a good taste for killing evil men." He crossed his arms and continued to look around the rooftops. "And we made a good team. We could work together."

Lyra blinked at him as he glanced around for her one last time. He sighed when there was no response, and he turned to the alley where he had come from. He strolled away from the carnage and entered into the alleyway when Lyra made a decision.

 _I'm new here. And alone. I should know some people._

She crept to the edge of the building she was on and quietly jumped down, landing softly on the cobblestone that was quickly spreading with blood. She called out, her voice strained from being unused for hours.

"How did you know these men would be here?"

She watched the elf stop in his tracks and turn around quickly, startled from her silent approach. His eyes shined green under strong brows. She felt him regard her curiously before responding.

"Heard a tip from a friend." He watched her apprehensively, as she was watching him. "How did you know?"

Lyra shifted from foot to foot, and she slipped her bow onto her back. "I found a note in a noble's pocket."

The elf nodded. "Lord Balgruff." His brow furrowed and an angry glint entered his eyes. "Notorious in the poorer parts for abducting young women and eventually dumping their bodies into the sea."

Lyra blinked at him. "Looks like he's next on my list, then."

The elf looked up at her with a doubtful look. "I've been trying to weaken his forces for weeks. He just has an endless amount of men."

"I don't need to kill more of his men to kill him." She looked up at the sky, seeing the darkness begin to lighten with the looming dawn. She needed to find a safe place to sleep, as her exhaustion from travel had really begun to catch up to her. "Do you know of a cheap but reliable inn around here?"

He shook his head. "All the trustworthy ones are in the upper city, and they won't take you past midnight." She nodded and sighed, looking around without really seeing anything as she thought. He cocked his head at her. "I owe you one. I have a place in the alienage." With that he turned and continued through the alley. Lyra was frozen with uncertainty, and he noticed and turned. "I'm Fenris. Freelance warrior."

Lyra breathed, calming herself, and began to walk towards him. He wasn't tall for an elf; she had an inch on him, but she could tell he had spent a life of fighting from the lean muscle and comfortability he carried his armor and sword with.

"I'm Lyra, traveling rouge." She continued until she was next to him. "I wouldn't take your offer if it wasn't so late. But I need rest, so thank you."

Fenris nodded and continued through the alley, with Lyra following. They traveled through a network of back alleys and roads until they descended steps into the elven alienage. She could tell where they were from the very large tree that was in the center of the courtyard, the first living plant she had seen since entering the city. Fenris led her to a small door on the side of the buildings, just as the sky began to lighten from the early hour. They slipped into the small living room with a couch and a rug, with the other wall being the kitchen. An open door led to a bedroom. Very few possessions were in this small living space, except for the essentials.

Fenris took his sword off of his back and set it onto a weapon holder near the door. He began to unbuckle the multitude of buckles that clasped the pieces of his armor together, his movement weary and showing he, too, was exhausted. This helped her relax a bit more and she slipped her quiver off and hung it with her bow on the weapon rack.

Fenris yawned as he kicked his boots off and he walked over to a closet to retrieve a blanket and a pillow. He lightly threw them on the couch and met Lyra's eyes with his tired gaze.

"Need anything, I'll be in the other room." He turned and was about to head into the bedroom when he glanced at her over his shoulder one last time. The corner of his mouth lifted. "Thanks again, stranger."

He closed the door quietly and left Lyra to the very inviting couch. She took off the rest of her leather armor and kicked her boots off as well. For the first time since a few days ago, she lifted her hood from her face, exposing her nose and eyes. She finally removed the hood completely, exposing her natural weakness, her bright red hair, and her identity, her elven ears to the air.

Feeling bare, she crawled into the warm couch and snuggled into the soft blanket, appreciative of the turn of events but also cautious of this strong stranger whose house and couch she was about to sleep in.

 _My instincts say I can trust him._

Not that that was enough for good, but for now, with Lyra physically fatigued from weeks of travel, it was enough.

Closing her eyes, her mind succumbed to a restful sleep.

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A rustle of metal on metal roused her awake, but not too quickly. She blinked a few times and focused her attention on the backside of Fenris, the white-haired elf, moving pots and pans in the kitchen. Or, well, what made up the kitchen.

The kitchen was nothing more than a wall with a counter, with a small fridge on the side. It seemed to have all of the essentials however, like a stove and an oven and a sink, but it was compact into a tight space.

Lyra's couch was actually in the same room as the 'kitchen', because it looked like the whole house was made up of only a few rooms.

Lyra blinked some more as she heard the water faucet turn on and she focused on the elf. He stood relaxed with his back to her, his attire only a shirt with holes in it and some baggy sweatpants. Now up close to him, she could clearly see blue lines etched all across his body, reminding her heavily of her own Vallaslin that sprawled across her body, but his patterns did not look Dalish; foreign, though.

 _How curious._

She yawned and sat up on the couch, pulling the warm blanket closer around her. Fenris glanced at her over his shoulder, and she could feel him watching her.

"I had no idea you were an elf. Or that you were Dalish." He spoke quietly. He continued preparing something on the counter. "I guess it makes sense though, why you would come to the alienage with me." Lyra raised an eyebrow.

"Why wouldn't I come to this alienage if I was a human?" She asked. Fenris glanced at her again.

"Humans don't come here. They wouldn't lower themselves to do that."

Lyra frowned.

 _This struggle is in every country, I see._

"Why was it a surprise that I am elven, then?"

"Because I can't imagine why any traveling elf would choose to come to this… _city_." He turned around and leaned against the counter then, meeting her eyes directly. "Especially a Dalish." His brow furrowed. "You have all you could need in your camp in the north. Any elf here in this alienage would kill to be able to live in the safety of the Dalish." His frown deepened to a glare. "If you would ever accept us elves who aren't born _sacred_ like you."

Lyra raised her brows. His defensive expression questioned her.

 _The Dalish clan here is not kind to the city elves._

"I do not come from that clan in the north. I have never even met them." Lyra kept his gaze, reasoning with him. "I was born in a clan, but I haven't lived with them for years. I left them for the very reason you harbor hard feelings for the clan here."

Fenris looked at her in surprise, and a fair bit of disapproval left his gaze. Lyra shook her head and chuckled a bit.

"Believe me, I am no representation of any Dalish clan." She sighed and raised a hand to her face. Her finger traced along the lines of the dark green tree tattoo that had been on her face since before she could remember. "But one does not choose their origin."

He watched her for another moment, processing her words.

"Where do you come from, then?" His voice had lost all of its harshness and had returned to a more relaxed, curious tone. His green eyes searched hers as she replied.

"I come from Ferelden." She responded softly, wondering what reaction she would get from him. His own eyebrows rose.

"Ferelden? You survived the Blight."

Lyra nodded. Fenris remained quiet, then turned back to the counter and finished pouring something. He turned with two steaming cups and he padded barefoot over to the couch she was still sitting on. He held out a cup and she took it gratefully, and she scooted over so he could sit next to her on the couch. There didn't seem to be any other seating.

"Thank you," she said before taking a sip of the warm and soothing tea. Fenris nodded and took a sip of his.

"I don't blame you for leaving that war-covered country." He said softly, looking down at his tea before glancing up at her, almost apologetically. "I would come to this damned city, too."

Lyra felt her mouth lift into a half-smile.

"So far, this city's not so bad. Plenty of scum to kill, and strangers who let me crash on their couch."

Fenris chuckled and relaxed back against the couch, his own mouth turning into a small smile.

"It's not that I think so highly of myself, but I wouldn't accept any offer to spend the night with a stranger again if I were you."

Lyra nodded and sipped her tea.

"Believe me, this is uncommon. If I had not been so entirely exhausted last night from my travels, I would have politely declined." She glanced over at him and felt a small smile tug at her lips. "Where did you get this tea, may I ask?"

Fenris looked up at her and looked down again, scratching his head.

"I, uh… bought it from, the Dalish, when they brought goods here to sell…"

He looked up to see her raise one eyebrow and smile knowingly at him.

"Alright, yes, I may be a bit of a hypocrite, speaking ill of the Dalish, and then, buying their tea…"

Lyra chuckled good naturedly.

"I do not blame you; one of the few things the Dalish are still good for is their tea."

Fenris chuckled back, glancing at her.

"You barely have an accent. You've lived away from them for very long?"

"A few years. Enough time around humans to adapt to their accent."

Fenris scoffed, looking down at his tea and shaking his head. Lyra watched him sideways.

"Where are you from?"

This question caused his frown to deepen, and his voice to deepen even more than his usual baritone.

"The Teventer Imperium. Hell's very own asshole."

Lyra stifled a laugh with her hand, and Fenris glanced over at her, his frown lessening and a smile appearing. She smiled apologetically at him.

"I've yet to make the trip. Haven't found a good enough reason to."

"I never want to return. But I'll have to, one day."

He finished his tea and stood from the couch, moving the few feet to the kitchen. Lyra didn't press him for details; she could tell his past was a heavy one.

 _We have that in common._

"I'm making a food run today, so I don't have much for now. I just have bread, if that's okay."

"Thank you, Fenris. I really appreciate your hospitality. But I have a few rations from my travels left, so I will no longer take advantage of you." Lyra joined him at the counter and joined her empty cup with his in the sink, lightly touching him on the arm. He met her gaze. "May I keep in touch with you? You were right; we make a good team. And Lord Balgruff needs a foot up his ass."

The corner of his mouth lifted, and his brow softened from its usual tension.

"You're not a stranger anymore. This alienage doesn't have the friendliest neighbors, but you are welcome to use the well for water anytime." He turned towards her and leaned against the counter. "Where do you plan on heading now?"

Lyra cocked her head as she thought. "I need to replenish my supplies and repair my armor and weapons, and after that, I suppose I will try and find a landlord willing to rent out a hole in the wall to an unknown stranger."

Fenris nodded.

"Hightown will have merchants and craftsmen you need, a bit pricey but worth the money. The landlady here in the alienage is an old woman in the far corner. She doesn't speak much, but seems kind enough; forgiving, of the other families here, who can't always pay the rent."

Lyra smiled at him and nodded, thankful for the information. "I plan to visit the same brothel I found the nobles with loose pockets to search for further clues of this Lord and his dealings." She turned towards the door and began to strap her leather armor on. She glanced up to see Fenris watching her. "I'll stop by when I get new information."

She stood with her armor on, and fastened her quiver and bow on her back. Fenris stood at the counter, his startling white hair and blue-white tattoos looking out of place in the cramped, dark-lit hovel.

"I plan to meet some friends later today, and we will scout out the slums for any clues." He left the counter and approached her, passing her to reach the covered window near the door. He parted the curtain an inch and peered outside for a moment, before closing it and turning back to her.

Lyra reached behind her and lifted her hood, covering her hair, ears, and tattoos, and hooding her eyes. "I will see you later, then."

Fenris nodded. "See you later." He spoke softly, though she could hear him clearly due to their close proximity.

She smiled at him as she opened the door, letting in the afternoon light, and his brow softened as he returned a small smile. She entered the community of the elven alienage, looking much different in the sunlight. The large oak was the center of the courtyard, its leaves reaching almost to the buildings surrounding it, casting the cobblestone into a spotty shade that shifted with the wind. She saw to her left the well Fenris had mentioned, and across the courtyard, the home of the landlady.

She breathed in deeply, only coming to quickly regret it; she breathed in a heavy stench of waste, the telltale scent of a poor community. She lowered her hood and headed for the landlady.

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"Not every man who brings a woman home intends to sleep with her, dwarf." Fenris scowled at Varric, who for some reason, found their exchange humorous.

"Oh, come on. Tell me, the _details_. A mysterious, dark, cloaked woman swoops in and saves your ass in the middle of the night, and you take her home and _thank_ her in the way you knew you could! Hell, I couldn't write a better fiction than that myself, elf."

Fenris sighed and glared at the dwarf, wishing Hawke had brought along _anyone_ other than him.

 _Well. Perhaps except for the damned mages._

" _I_ think elves need to, I don't know, fall in love and pray to a tree together first or something," Isabella said, eyeing Fenris with her annoying flirtatious smile. Fenris looked away and sighed again.

 _Why did Hawke have to date_ her _. Nothing better than the boss's girlfriend flirting with you._

"Both of you, leave me alone, and focus on the job Hawke gave us." He scowled at them, electing a chuckle from both of them. He stood from the curb they were sitting on, down in a corner of the deepest darkest nitches of the slums. Fenris looked around, wishing Hawke would return. These two loosen up when he isn't around.

Varric leaned over to whisper to Isabelle, just loud enough so that Fenris could here.

"Poor guy probably couldn't get it up," causing her to giggle.

Fenris was about to make a retort when the deep, slightly rough voice of their leader interrupted.

"Any leads?" The short question caused the three to look up at the approaching Hawke. His words were always full of intent, his bright blue eyes always focused on their task at hand. He brought the group back from their antics.

Fenris shook his head. "No, the people down here are either too scared or too hungry to respond with anything that helps."

Hawke nodded, not surprised. He paused and looked around himself, lost in thought. "These people need medical help, they need food. They need hope."

Isabelle stood from the curb and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't save everyone, Aedan."

Hawke's frown lessened and he nodded.

"I know. There's just so much to do still in this city."

"You need to remember that you don't owe this shit city anything."

Fenris looked up at the couple then, the tone of Isabella's voice drawing his attention. The two shared a look that led him to believe that this was a touchy subject in their relationship. He spoke up to break the silence.

"We still have my contact. She should get in touch by the end of the night."

"Is she trustworthy?" Hawke asked Fenris, and he nodded in response.

"She saved my life a few times last night without even knowing me. Could've killed me in my sleep. I trust her."

Hawke nodded and set off towards the higher city, the three of them following in tow. He looked back at Fenris with a small smile on his face.

"You're not usually one to trust easily, Fenris. I'm surprised you know this woman so well after just one night." He raised a brow at him, and Fenris sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Not you too, Hawke." Hawke laughed lightly and Varric and Isabella joined in, and the team continued on through the streets with their friendly banter, unknowingly being watched by an elf from the rooftops.

Lyra watched them leave, a small smile on her lips. She shook her head at the group's jokes, and felt more comfortable now knowing that the group of people she would start to work with to bring down a corrupt and evil nobleman was a group full of good people. She felt a tinge of guilt for spying on a group of potential friends, but too many instances of betrayal in her past had made her cautious, to say the least.

She looked down at the key she had been holding in her hand, the key to her new rented property. The landlady had been nice, and by coincidence had given Lyra the key to the apartment right next to Fenris'.

 _At least I'll know one neighbor._ She thought comfortingly. Traveling around this large city full of countless people had made Lyra feel lonely, since she prefers forests with more trees than people. _I feel lonelier in a place full of more people. How does that make any sense?_

She shook her head and stood from her comfortable crouch on the roof. The sky looked clear, and the slight breeze was pleasant. Lyra smiled to herself. _I won't need to worry about the weather tonight; I'll finally have my own roof over my head!_

She lightly ran across the close roofs, her leather boots softly padding against the shingles. She watched the world of humans and an occasional elf down below her on the streets, oblivious that their days were being observed. Glancing up at the sun told her it was past midday, and she registered that she had a few more hours before the bars and brothels would open. Bars and brothels full of lords and ladies with loose pockets and heavy coin.

The tinge of guilt hit her once again as she felt regret for pickpocketing the occasional coin from strangers, but she reminded herself that she only stole from the rich who would rather spend their money on whores or weapons. Lyra had realized with a start that she recognized the leader of Fenris' group when she first spotted them; the tall bearded human with dark hair that carried a large sword, named Hawke. She had seen him walking into a bar a few nights ago. From her first glance at him, she could tell he had wealth from the quality of his armor and weapons, and that he held a certain status from his gait. Lyra had immediately singled him out as a good target, but had stopped short when he stopped outside the bar in front of a homeless elf. The elf looked old and unhealthy, and he was curled up a few feet from the dark doorway on the cobblestone. Hawke had paused before going in to bend down and give a few coins to the man.

It was Lyra's personal policy to never steal from people who seemed to be good men or women.

 _I am fortunate to find kind people in a city that seems to lack such._

She continued on her way, making her way to the alienage in short time, from taking the close roofs the whole way and avoiding the crowd. She dropped down lightly by grabbing windowsills and protruding bricks in a small alleyway, and pulled her hood lower as she blended into the people on the street. She made her way down into the alienage square, nose scrunching at the smell of waste.

 _I will have to see about that._

Two small elven children scampered across her path before looking up at her fearfully, no doubt scared at the strange, dark, well armed, hooded figure entering into their neighborhood. She looked down at them and met their eyes with her kind ones, and she gave them a smile and a wink before walking past the giant tree in the center of the square to enter into her new humble abode.

She glanced behind her at the kids now staring at her curiously before she entered her home.

She walked into her bare room, the kitchen appliances and the couch the only things. The wallpaper was falling off in a corner, the sink had mold, and the whole floor was covered in dust an inch thick.

 _I love it._

She went to her single pack she had left in the corner and untied the straps. In the very bottom, she dug out a tube of a clay substance, similar to the makeup wealthier people use. This was much thicker. Thick enough to cover her tattoos.

 _And my disguise begins._

She removed her hood and her leather armor, placing them and her weapons in a neat arrangement on the floor. She owned a single commoner dress, and she slipped it on with her boots. She began to apply the clay onto her face, the feeling familiar. A memory from her past flickered in her mind, but she brushed it away.

 _If only my Keeper could see me now; covering the pride of my clan._

It should have bothered her more than it did, she admitted, but she had been forced to give up her pride long ago in replacement for survival. A Dalish elf in a human bar is too much of a sight to see, there would be no way she could pickpocket anyone like that.

But a shy, scared elven maid serving drinks? No one ever suspects a thing.

She slipped a couple throwing knives and her two daggers into her boots, and ruffled her hair, making her look more common and poor. She would have to look desperate for what she was about to do.

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"Thank you, sir, thank you, I won't let you down, I won't-"

"Alright, yes, calm down, sweetheart," The burly man said with his rough voice, but laid a large hand on her shoulder comfortingly. She looked up at him with innocent eyes, and she could feel her charm soften the man even more. "You can start by busing tables and getting to know my customers. My wife should have an old apron in the back." He paused and squeezed her shoulder slightly. "You'll do fine, hun."

She smiled hesitantly and bowed her head submissively, going to do as he asked. She smiled to herself when he left to return to the bar.

 _Mission successful._

She now had a job at one of the most popular bars in lowtown, known for the various crowd, but also known as the place rich people go to make deals that may or may not be entirely legal.

A dirty place off the Watch's radar full of wealthy pockets. Lyra's dream.

An hour into the busing, the novelty of a new elven maid had died down, and the lords and ladies went back to their chatting and drinking, allowing her disguise to fully take effect. One drunk lord slapped her on the ass as she walked by, and as she skittered away frightened, another lord punched him square in the face, knocking him out, cold. Two men lifted the man and threw him outside, and she was tasked with retrieving the tankard he had firmly gripped in his fist. She bent down outside with him, and while prying the mug out of his fist with one hand, her other slipped into his pocket and pulled money and a few slips of paper, tucking them into her folds casually.

The evening went on, and the later it got, the more intoxicated the men and women got, and the easier the pickings were for her.

Finally, after her first shift was over, she returned the apron, thanked the manager once again, and slipped through the shadows back to the alienage.

She had gotten something. Nothing on paper, but by ear. One lord was boasting about his large recent income from his boss, Lord Balgruff. His friend had tried to shush him, but not before he had said, '…and all my men have to do is wander around in the scums tonight while I'm sleeping and grab a-', before he was quickly hushed by a friend. Lyra had gotten good looks at the two of them, knew where they lived, how much they made, and even what bothered them about their wives. She also knew what drinks they liked.

 _Fools._

She approached her corner of the alienage, and immediately recognized the bright silver hair illuminated by the moonlight. The green eyes beneath them looked up from his sword on his lap and met hers, a look of mild confusion on his face. Probably at the strange elven maid he had never seen before, approaching him.

She smiled at him and he straightened his posture, watching her.

"Fenris."

His eyes showed he recognized her voice, but his brow furrowed in disbelief.

"…Lyra?"

She nodded as she pulled out her keys and passed him to reach the door next to the one he was leaning on. She unlocked the door and looked down to meet his confusion.

"The landlady was kind. I'll try not to bang on your wall too much."

His eyebrow rose and he made his way to his feet, sheathing his sword.

"I was wondering when the empty place next door would be filled."

She opened the door and waved him inside, closing the door before going immediately to the sink. She washed the clay off of her face before wiping it with a towel. She could hear him settling on the ground against her wall, the one they shared. _I will have to look at buying a used couch._

She felt him watch her as she hung the towel on a hook and leaned against the counter to look at him. She paused, seeing the question in his face, and he spoke quietly, the curiosity evident in his voice.

"I…know I've only known you for about 24 hours now, but I would have never guessed the beautiful young woman in front of me was the dark and ominous shadow that saved my life."

His voice was void of flirtation; he said the compliment like it was fact. Nevertheless, it still caused her to blush.

She smiled slightly and tilted her head in thanks before beginning to pull the strands of her red hair back from her face into a braid down the middle of her head.

"This disguise is going to be where I get most of my information from now. The Hanged Man bar. Ever been there?"

Fenris scoffed. "Yes. My dwarven companion takes up residence there, as well as our leader's lover." He peered over at her, regarding her in a different light. "Did you learn anything tonight?"

She nodded as she finished her tight braid. "Yes. A group of men are going to kidnap another girl tonight. I am not sure when."

Fenris became alert as she turned around to her kitchen. She reached up into the cupboard above her sink. She pulled her leather armor and her bow and arrows out, and faced Fenris again.

"I assume you want to stop them," he said as he watched her pull off her dress. He averted his eyes as she idly changed in front of him, and with a start she remembered not all elves are Dalish. Not everyone is as comfortable about their bodies in small clothes as her culture is. _Oops._

She quickly outfitted herself as she responded. "Not…quite."

This made him look up at her in question, and she continued.

"I want to save the poor girl. Undoubtedly. But I also want this to end sooner rather than later." She strapped her quiver onto her back silently and she raised her hood to cover her hair, ears, and eyes. "I want to follow them. See where they head, which house, with how many guards. And then shoot my arrows into the sorry bastards' eyes and bring the girl home."

Fenris was silent as she reached down to remove her daggers from her boots and place them in the sheath on her back, and he stood and rolled his neck out. She watched him, and his silence.

"Do you think my plan is too risky?" She asked seriously, willing to change it if he thought so. He met her eyes and a corner of his mouth lifted.

"…No. I like your plan. I'm just…" He looked away and scratched his arm, searching for words. "…Used to following an idealist."

 _Your hero and leader, Hawke._

She closed her eyes and nodded.

 _I was once a hero. Oh how some stars can fall._

"You know my plan, but I quite often screw the plan should I need to."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if while we are following them and the girl, they start to hurt her in any way, I will not hesitate to kill them then and there to save her the pain and find another way to track them back."

His eyes softened and he nodded in agreement. "Shall we play spy, then?"

Lyra smiled. "Let's play spy."

She turned to head out when she heard him chuckling from behind her, and she looked at him over her shoulder.

"You know, most people keep _food_ in their kitchen cupboards, not weapons," his voice teased. She winked at him.

"Give me some time."

O

O

O

O

O

Fenris hadn't had a long chance to think through the last 24 hours yet. To think about the mysterious and dangerous rogue who blends into shadows easier than Varric puts down beer, and how she turned out to be a very interesting character. Full of secrets, and full of skills.

 _Well. We all have secrets, I guess._

He couldn't hear her at all as she snaked her way up a wall like a bloody rat, all the way to the roof. He looked up to see her hooded face peer over the side at him, and she gave him a signal. He turned and continued down the street along the buildings until he reached the corner. She gave him the signal for halt from her roof, and he lounged against the wall and waited until the coast was clear.

 _What an efficient method. Now we get both the benefits of a spymaster and a warrior, just by her scouting ahead for me._

He found he easily trusted this stranger, what with her honest eyes and her presence of calm. How can eyes look like they are about to burst with secrets, but at the same time, look at you with honest intent? The way his guard fell around her made him even more suspicious, but her intentions were clear.

Find the bastard who's kidnapping children, and kill any who get in their way.

Equivalent to his intentions.

He jumped slightly when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and he glared at her when he realized she had climbed down. _Maker, she is too silent._

"Yes?" He asked quietly.

"The group of men have stopped, just around the corner. We are getting lower into the slums; less and less roofs for me to hide on. We'll continue on foo-"

Before she could finish, a high pitch scream filled the silence of the night, and Fenris saw a flash of worry in Lyra's eyes that was quickly replaced with anger. Her hand flashed out and grabbed his wrist that was reaching for his sword, and then she released him to dart to the edge of the building to peer around the corner.

"Alrighty now, come on, come on, hun, nice and easy. We won't have to hurt you if you stop flailing your arms, girl."

Fenris crept slowly behind Lyra and he peered around the corner above her, seeing a group of five men holding torches and the largest one gripping the arm of a small, bony girl, not older than 10.

Anger began to boil his blood, and he bit down hard, trying to stay calm as the cries of the girl got louder.

"Please, no…"

The man lifted her over his shoulder and she fell silent, her whimpering the only sound in the night, aside from Fenris' angry breathing. He felt something push on the plates on his chest, and he looked down at Lyra, her blue-green eyes peering at him from under her hood. Her gaze said more than any words could. The pain in them told him she understood his anger, and she shared it. Her hand placed firmly on his chest reminded him they had a job to do, and he couldn't lose his cool or they would lose their only lead. He sighed heavily and nodded to her once, and she removed her hand from his chest and turned to look back around the corner.

The group of men began to head up along another road, towards the East side of lowtown, and Lyra watched them as they turned a corner before following quickly after them, Fenris on her heels and trying his best to be silent.

They followed the group of men all of the way to the edge of Hightown, and none of them had harmed the girl yet, and so they had remained hidden. _At least now we know the area where the girls are being taken. That's much more than before._

He felt something brush his shoulder, and he looked and saw the edge of Lyra's foot as she lightly scaled the building they were next to. He peered at the group from around the corner of this building, and they had seemed to stop before a small slanted door on the side of a building that seemed to lead down to the basement. Worry that they would lose them filled his mind, and he looked up to where he figured Lyra would be and saw her looking back at him, and they both understood that this was far enough.

He nodded to her in understanding, and a second later the soft sound of a silenced bowstring being released was followed by the slice of an arrow going through one of the men's neck and the thud as he hit the ground. Another two men were killed similarly before Fenris got to them, the one carrying the girl yelling and the other one drawing his sword. He felt his blood boil from the rage and from adrenaline, and he roared a taunt to them as he ran to them. Fenris easily parried the sword man's swing and he knocked him to the ground with his hilt.

"STOP! Stop, or I'll slit this girl's throat!"

Fenris froze where he was, and he watched the frightened last man hold a knife to the crying girl's throat.

"Drop your sword, now, or I swear I'll do it!"

Fenris heard himself growl and he lowered his sword to the ground slowly. Thoughts flew through his head, what should he say, what should he _do_? He was about to panic when he saw a flash of silver glint on the roof ahead of him, across the street.

 _How did she get over there so fast?_

He knew she would only be seen if she wanted to be seen. She wanted him to see her. Relief flooded through his veins when he watched her draw her bow in his peripherals.

"Where are you taking the girl? I know you are probably getting paid dirt for this; I can make it worth your while," Fenris distracted him. The girl cried silently in the man's headlock; the sight hurt Fenris.

"I aint tellin' you _shit_ , knife-ear, now why don't you- AGH!" He exclaimed and stumbled, an arrow sticking out of his calf. The girl had fallen in his shock, and she crawled away from the man as he looked behind him for the archer Fenris knew he wouldn't see. Fenris felt the lyrium in his veins glow with power, and he clenched his hand into a fist and shoved it into his chest. He felt the unnatural feeling of his beating heart in his hand, and he squeezed, stopping it and killing the man instantly. The satisfaction helped kill some of his anger, and as he looked to the shadows where the girl hid, he felt the rest of it melt away.

He picked up his sword and sheathed it, and he approached her crying form slowly. He stopped when he was 10 feet away, and he knelt down, trying to appear less dangerous.

"Are you alright, girl?" He asked softly, but she only shied away from him more. He sighed and looked around them to check that their surroundings were safe, when he heard Lyra's voice behind him.

"There will probably be more in the cellar." She spoke quietly, and approached him. He looked up at her and she smiled down at him, the first real smile he had seen on her. Her eyes relaxed and smiled at him in such an unguarded way, he blinked up at her in shock. Then as quickly as it had started, she knelt down next to him and she lifted her hood, exposing her identity. Then she spoke to the frightened girl in a soft voice.

"I am so sorry those men took you. But they are gone now. They cannot hurt you."

The girl blinked at her and began to tremble, her frightened tears beginning to fall more freely now that the shock had worn off. Lyra continued as she held out her hand.

"My name is Lyra. Please allow me guide you home." She then loosened some strings on the side of her pack and unrolled a small blanket, before reaching out and setting it on the ground for the girl. "It is cold out. You may have this."

She stared at Lyra for another minute before tentatively crawling forward and taking the blanket. She whispered, "Thank you."

Lyra nodded and gently reached down to help her wrap the blanket around her shoulders before tucking a strand of her dirty hair behind one of her ears. Fenris watched the tenderness exude from his new companion, and he stood and looked around them. He met Lyra's eyes, and he understood that they could not take on whatever was in that cellar, just the two of them, when they needed to help this girl home. Together, they escorted the girl back to the street where they found her, and an old woman fell to her knees in thanks before she wrapped her arms around the girl and carried her off.

Lyra and Fenris returned home silently, the night not yet too late. He invited her in to his place, thinking she probably did not have any food yet.

"Thank you." She smiled at him as he opened the door for her, and they both began to shed layers of weapons and armor. She continued into the silence. "Thank you for all of this, Fenris."

He looked over at her. "I wanted to kill those mongrels as much as you did."

"I mean thank you for trusting me." She said as she folded her leather and set them in piles near the door. She then met his eyes. "I've just moved to a strange new place. A place known for its _slavery_ , of all things. And I do not feel alone, as I had expected." Her eyes were deep wells with a mixture of appreciation and apprehension. He straightened and leveled his gaze at her, unable to look away and unable to think of any words. He swallowed, an unfamiliar tightness in his throat coupled with a clenching of his stomach, neither of which were unpleasant.

 _I share her apprehension._

 _And her appreciation._

At his silence, she lowered her gaze and picked up her things, intending to leave. That was when he untied his tongue.

"I'm making a stew."

He said abruptly, and she looked at him over her shoulder, a faint hope in her eyes. He chuckled softly at her obviousness. "I doubt you had time to shop for food. Have some."

With that he looked away and went to work in his kitchen, slightly disturbed at the strange feelings in his body, but also quite intrigued. Why was he suddenly nervous around her? When it had nothing to do with her dangerous skills or secrets?

"Thank you again, Fenris." She said softly as she set her things down and moved towards him. "May I help?"

He nodded and handed her some potatoes and carrots for her to peel and chop, and they went to work in his tiny kitchen, barely enough room for one of them, but they made it work.

 _We seem to work well as a team in the kitchen as well as in battle._

He was about to mention that when she accidentally pressed against his side as she held two peeled potatoes over the sink to wash.

"Oh, excuse me," she murmured before readjusting to make a little more room on the small counter.

He said nothing as he felt his heartbeat accelerate.

 _I… am not in danger._

He looked over at her and noticed the tips of her ears were turning red. Her face remained impassive, however. He searched for anything to distract him.

"I have seen the style you wear your hair before, among the Dalish. Does it mean something?"

She looked over at him, slightly surprised, but nodded and explained, turning her attention back to her preparation. "Yes. Many distinguished hunters shave the sides of their heads to remove all the hair from around their ears, to 'improve' their hearing." She scoffed. "It's really rubbish, though. I hear the same as I did before. Mainly just a cultural thing; something you do when the elders deem you an expert hunter."

Fenris smiled at her bluntness and honesty, and she continued.

"I just rather like the feel of it. It's the only reason I haven't changed it since leaving my clan."

"What is it like? To have…a clan?"

She paused and looked over at him, reading the sincerity in his voice and his eyes. She sobered.

"It's actually quite wonderful. To belong to something, to have a place in a community." She continued working. "Until it's no longer."

Fenris could hear her guarded voice, and decided not to press.

"I've never belonged to a community before." He mused, also focusing on cutting the beef, the red meat fresh. "Well, I've belonged to a _man_ , but I hardly guess slavery feels the same."

She paused and he felt her stare at him, but he dreaded her reaction. Everyone was the same; pitying him like he was a hurt puppy.

 _I don't want your pity._

He was about to say that out loud when she beat him to words.

"Is that fucker dead?"

This startled him, and he also paused, his knife forgotten on the counter. Her two blue-green eyes looked at him with such intensity, he was taken aback. Her gaze was void of pity, but full of something else. Unadulterated _anger_.

"Uh, no," he stuttered, taken aback by her gaze of hatred. It wasn't aimed at him. "I've been hiding out from him here for a while now, but every now and then a group of his lackeys find me."

He watched her breathe in deeply, and the hand holding her knife relaxed. Her knuckles were white. She looked at him dead in the eyes.

"Next time you hear he's around, you find me. And I'll make sure you deliver whatever death you want on him."

He blinked at her quiet ferocity, and he nodded. She turned her attention back to her work and resumed peeling the potatoes, calming down, and he also resumed his cooking, slightly perturbed and slightly aroused at her intense hatred for his former master, though she had no more information than that.

They finished preparation and they poured all of the ingredients into a large pot, and Fenris lit the stove, setting the stew to cook. He sat down on the couch and sank into the cushion, and Lyra did the same. They sat together and watched their dinner cook for a while, both of them content to relax after the night of work.

"Fenris, I never thought you used magic."

A sour taste entered his mouth. He spat to the side. He growled out his next words in disgust.

"I am no mage."

He tried to not let the glare on his face intensify, but to no avail. The silence droned on until she spoke quietly.

"I was unaware, and insensitive. My curiosity will undo me. Forgive me."

Her soft words made the anger melt away, and he felt the lines on his face relax as he met her eyes with a sigh.

"There is nothing to forgive. These," he gestured to the lines all along his body, "were given to me by my former master. They are lyrium markings, burned into my veins. They give me certain abilities. But they were also a way for my master and his apprentices to control and torture me."

He glanced to her eyes and expected to see pity there, but like last time, he saw only anger. She shook her head and clenched her hands, seeming to want to say something, but keeping her mouth shut. He continued.

"I know they look strange."

"They look beautiful." She responded quietly, and then caught herself, her eyes darting to his. He felt his heart swell from the compliment, and from the adorable embarrassment coming from her expression. The corner of his mouth rose and his eyes relaxed.

"You are the first to think so," he said quietly, watching her cheeks turn pink.

She averted her eyes and struggled for words, her frown and her perplexion contrasting to the cool confidence of her fighting aura. He felt a grin tug on his lips at the amusing sight of this powerful hunter looking so bashful sitting on his couch.

"That was, I wasn't thinking."

"I take no offense."

She nodded but kept her gaze averted. He could read in her expression she was trying to find another topic.

"Will you tell me of your companions?"

He nodded, and looked off into the distance. "Certainly. They are are strange bunch, from drastically different backgrounds. Varric and Isabela spend more hours of the day drunk than sober, and they take up residence in the Hanged Man, you may have seen them. We have a city guard in our group, who also fares from Ferelden; Aveline. We have three mages." He paused to scowl, and Lyra watched tension enter his shoulders. "Bethany is Hawke's sister, she means well. Anders is an abomination, and Merrill is a Dalish _blood_ mage." He sighed deeply, and stood to start filling two bowls with the stew. "We all have come together thanks to Hawke. He comes from Ferelden, like you, but he came here during the first stages of the blight, many months ago." He looked over at her listening and cocked his head. "How did you survive the blight?"

She nodded and breathed in deeply, and her eyes went to a far away place as well. "My story is a very long one, and one that will be very hard to believe."

She prefaced with this, and that got his attention. He sat next to her with the bowls, and they settled with their food, and he focused on her. She breathed in deeply, and cleared her throat. She frowned and he could see a deep well of sadness in her eyes, covered in strength. He hadn't seen her get this emotional before.

"I actually do not know how much I am _allowed_ to tell you," she murmured quietly. "Suffice it to say, I played a role as a sort of, _diplomat_ , in the relations of the separate nations and their alliances, and I fought in the final battle against the archdemon."

He stared at her as she began to eat, and he forced himself to start eating as well. He had never thought she would have been a battle expert and a diplomat to many different races, involved in the battles of the blight against the darkspawn.

 _Why would I assume she just hid out in a forest? I guess that may be my pre misconception of the Dalish._

"You fought against a dragon?" he asked into the quiet.

"I've fought against a few."

They continued to eat, but he had one last question to ask.

"Why would you not be allowed to tell others of your past?"

She nodded and looked at him apologetically.

"I knew… King Alistair." She swallowed, and he noticed instantly that this was a hard topic for her to talk about. "The Ferelden government is very strict about… the relations of the royalty, and the... information, provided to the public."

He stared at her again, finally understanding how important she must have been to the war, and to Ferelden. To the _humans_ in Ferelden.

"You, knew the noble humans in Ferelden?" he asked, aware that his implications behind this question may be offensive. To his relief, she took no offense.

"Yes. My origin may be quite strange compared to the majority in the government, but as the silver lining to a war that brought tens of thousands of deaths, it forced all the races to come together and bring their strengths and look past their petty squabbles. We would have lost the war, and thus the world as we know it, had we not been able to put aside our arrogance." She finished her stew.

"I had no idea you were so well travelled, or well versed in politics and war." he said quietly, seeing this new companion in a new light. Her ideals were quite radically progressive, _especially_ for a Dalish. And yet she spoke of them with such conviction, he caught himself agreeing with her.

She shook her head and smiled at him. "Now I'm just a travelling rogue with a tendency to get my head into other peoples' business. And, take advantage of kind peoples' couches." He chuckled.

"Welcome to the club. That's all we do at the Hanged Man; determine which greedy bastard in this town deserves a foot in his ass next."

She smiled at him, and her past worries that had been burdening her seemed to lift from her shoulders. "Well, sir, I look forward to working with you."

He felt a grin tug at his mouth, and he nodded. He took her bowl from her and stood to wash the dishes, and he felt her stand as well. He looked over his shoulder as she made to leave, and she glanced at him before reaching the door.

"I'll be just a second, going to get dressed for work."

He nodded and finished cleaning the dishes. He put a pot of water on the stove for tea, and sat on the couch just as she lightly knocked on the door and let herself in.

He glanced up, but his eyes lingered on her startlingly convincing disguise, with her simple dress accentuating her curves, her hair styled modestly, and her face bare of her tattoos. He had to actively remind himself of who she really was; a strong and experienced fighter, and not as she so convincingly appeared as; weak, submissive, and innocent.

She joined him on the couch and lifted her dress to show her leather boots perfect for stealth, and he watched her secure her daggers into the sides of them. She sighed and met his gaze.

"I don't know why I feel so apprehensive for meeting your friends." He snorted.

"You have nothing to worry about, we literally take anyone," he said without thinking. She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"I would assume; they took in your sorry ass."

He smirked, his chest bubbling at the tease. "Just don't bat your maiden eyes too long at the dwarf or the pirate; they will eat you right up."

She laughed lightly, and then quieted, and then she turned into _the_ image of a scared, elven maid right in front of him. She clasped her hands together, her eyes widened, and her brows upturned as she looked at him earnestly, and she even began to tremble. He knew this was an act and yet he felt his heart shift in his chest from the sight.

"S-sir, m-may I please refill your cup? Can I get anything for you?" her voice turned to complete innocence, and he blinked at her transformation, awed by the accuracy. He had never had such a beautiful pair of blue-green eyes look at him with such care before, and he cleared his throat.

"Oh, you should _absolutely_ introduce yourself to them like that." he could imagine the shock they would feel after a performance like hers. She shed the innocent skin and she smiled at him before chuckling.

"I'll just butter them up, ripe for our taking," she said, elbowing him softly, and he nodded mischievously.

"You make the dwarf make a fool of himself, I'll buy you drinks for the rest of the week."

She grinned. "Count on it."

O

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O

"Alright, alright, fine, elf. But just tell me this one thing," Varric slurred as he waved his empty mug towards Fenris.

Fenris lounged in a chair with his feet up on a table, in the middle of the bustling Hanged Man. He nursed his own drink, and he rolled his eyes at the insistent dwarf.

"What."

"Is she, brunette? Blonde? Oh, _please_ tell me she's redheaded," he asked, like the information was the most paramount in the world. Fenris sighed and shook his head as Varric continued. "I just have to know so I can _fully_ envision the moody angst sex you two have in my head."

Fenris was about to make a retort when the new waitress approached. Both men watched her fidget with her apron with one hand as she clutched a large pitcher in the other. Fenris kept his gaze away from hers and watched Varric with a slightly sick enjoyment.

"May I refill your cup again, sir?" she inquired softly, and Fenris could see the dwarf melt right in front of him.

"Oh, my dear. You have taken such good care of old Varric, all evening," he gushed as she poured more ale for him. Isabela approached, then, and Fenris felt excitement bubble in his chest.

"Sweet robin, will you fill mine again too?" she placed an arm around her, and Lyra smiled at her charmingly.

"She's filling _mine_ right now, Isabela," Varric grumbled, and Lyra gave the most innocent confused look as the two garbled over who she was serving first.

Fenris felt laughter bubble from his chest, and soon he was banging the table with his fist laughing. He watched Lyra struggle to keep her facade, and after a moment of Varric and Isabela glaring at him demanding what was wrong with him, Lyra slipped from between the two tipsy rogues and walked to stand next to Fenris. He calmed down and felt her place a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and gave her an actual genuine smile, not having felt such merriment in a very long time.

She shed her innocent fear, but kept her kind eyes as she grinned back at him. Varric and Isabela just stared, uncomprehendingly. Fenris smirked and held his hands in front of him, fingertips touching.

"Varric, Isabela. May I introduce you, Lyra, travelling rogue, assassin in the dark, savior of poor children and my new friend, who hails from Ferelden."

Lyra curtsied, and grinned at them both before gesturing to Fenris. "Forgive me. This prank was the least I could do to thank him after taking me in from the streets."

Varric stared at her slack jawed, and Isabela looked slightly betrayed. "Sweet robin…?"

He watched Lyra's brows upturn and she smiled before walking over to her. Isabela blinked at her with a guarded expression, and Lyra gracefully stepped into her arms, rested a hand on her cheek, and placed her lips gently on her other cheek. Fenris and Varric watched, perplexed, as Isabela blinked, and Lyra stepped away as quickly as she had come. "May I remain your robin?"

Isabela stared at her, then downed her entire tankard and slammed it on the table Fenris was at. His feet fell from the table, and then he backed away as Isabela jumped up on the table and hollered for the attention of the entire bar.

"Shots on me!" She whooped and the crowd cheered, and Varric and Fenris were yelling and trying to get her down. Lyra lost it and laughed brightly, listening to Fenris and Varric yell at Isabela that she doesn't have any money.

After the commotion had somewhat died down, and the four had moved to sitting positions at a table, the crowd shifted and Hawke walked in, drawing much attention, as a tall, handsome, heavily armed human would. He joined them at the table, and Fenris laid an intoxicated hand on his shoulder.

"Hawke. This is Lyra." He gestured to the waitress sitting with them, and Hawke nodded to her with a slight smile.

"I've seen you before, around. It seems the best stealth is in plain sight?"

Lyra nodded and smiled. "I've the opportunity to take on such a disguise, and may I say, the rewards have been worth it."

"I heard you and Fenris intercepted a group from Lord Balgruff and saved a girl."

She nodded, and turned to Fenris when he spoke up.

"Yes, and what's more, we discovered a hideout, up in hightown."

Hawke's brows rose and he was about to respond when the drunken Isabela interrupted, stumbling against him messily.

"Always talking about work. During the day, during the night, even in _bed_. Lay _off_ for a night, will ya?"

Hawke looked at her for a second and nodded. The other three shared a look. A silence ensued, and Lyra broke it gracefully.

"May I ask what part of Ferelden you are from, Hawke?"

He nodded, and sobered. "Certainly, my family is from Lothering. We left right as the blight was overtaking us."

A silence followed, acknowledging his home lost to the war. Then he continued.

"Are you from the Ferelden alienage, Lyra?"

She shook her head. "I once belonged to the Dalish clan, the Lavellan. I have my tattoos covered with a wax right now, as part of the disguise. I visited Lothering once, before it was overrun."

"Really?" he asked, shocked. She nodded.

"I am sorry you lost your home. I, too, can not return to the forests where I grew up. Have you any family?"

The table quieted, and her brows upturned. "Forgive me for asking."

He shook his head, but did not hide his pain. "There is nothing to forgive. My mother, sister Bethany, and I escaped here as refugees and have been living with my uncle Gamlen. We lost my younger brother, Carver, in the escape."

She bowed her head and said something soft in the Dalish tongue, saying a prayer for him. The table watched her for the moment, and then she raised her gaze to meet his once again.

"The blight brought tragedy to us all. I was involved in the war efforts, and I saw first hand the destruction and the loss of all of the races." she glanced at Fenris and met his gaze, and he received the silent request from her: _Please allow me to inform them of my past on my own_. He nodded in understanding. She continued. "I come here, as a sort of refugee as well. I had planned on travelling farther, but after seeing the pain woven in the roots of this city…"

Hawke nodded in understanding, his blue eyes regarding her kindly. "I feel the same way. There is so much to be done here." He glanced at Isabela, but she was drowning in her drink. "Let us speak no more of sad times tonight; tonight, we want to celebrate, and the only way this band of misfits knows how to initiate another into our group is to simply…"

He paused for dramatic effect.

"Drink as much as you can, without dying."

The table whooped, and Lyra felt a grin form before she leaned into Fenris, sitting next to her. "Alright. This one here owes me a week's worth of drinks!"

Fenris grimaced but raised an arm to rest on her shoulders. He looked at her, but the corner of his mouth rose. "I had hoped you had forgotten that."

O

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"And then, I swear, and then this poor chap truthfully _whimpered_ , and I couldn't take it anymore, I burst out laughing…" Isabela descended into a mad fit of giggling, the Hanged Man becoming deserted from the normal folk heading home in the early hour, leaving just the table of Lyra's new friends.

Lyra was holding on to the table, trying to keep steady in her inebriation, and yet she had still enough awareness to see what the drunk Isabela was doing to Hawke, joking about past lovers so openly. She watched Hawke cordially chuckle with the others at proper times, but she could read how uncomfortable he was, even in her drunken state. She slid over to him and joined him at the table.

"You fight with a broad sword or sword and shield?" her words were only slightly slurred, and she took that as a win.

He looked over at her and seemed to relax some, his blue eyes grateful.

"Both. You fight with a bow or daggers?"

"Both." she smiled at him, and she watched some tension leave his shoulders from the distraction. He cocked his head.

"I know you are close to Fenris. How do _you_ feel about mages?"

The question caught her off guard, but she recovered quickly.

"Mages are just people. They are born with something, whether they believe it to be a gift or a curse. I see them as bearers of the burden of power, but as with all weapons, one can hone them to do wonderful and beautiful things, like protecting your loved ones, or serving the nature around us, as the Dalish teach." she smiled in memory. "My dear mentor, an older human woman, Wynne, was a mage. I want to be as strong as her, and as calm and compassionate as her, one day."

He nodded. "My sister is an apostate. As well as Anders, our healer, and Merrill." He paused to take a drink, and Lyra watched him. "But I don't fear telling you that as much, since the Dalish have held that burden of power and handled it since the beginning."

She nodded in agreement. "The Dalish believe that to focus on the weapon is to lose sight of the cause. Mages just use different weapons, instead of a bow or sword. What matters, with all people, is their values, and how effective they are at taking care of themselves, be it physically, mentally, and emotionally."

Hawke smiled at her. "It's a relief to know Fenris has a friend like you."

She felt a slight blush brush her cheeks. "You are too kind, Hawke. Fenris told me he was once enslaved. I'm assuming it was by mages."

"Yes. The pain and the distrust, and the fear, runs deep."

Lyra nodded and looked down at the tankard in her hands, lost in thought. Hawke regarded her.

"I sense a lot of experience in you, like you've lived enough for a few lifetimes already." he said quietly, and Lyra met his thoughtful gaze. She smiled at him slightly, and just nodded.

"My time for leading has come, and gone. It feels right that I can support your cause and the people in this city," she said as she drank from her mug. She met his eyes. "I sense goodness in your heart, and a purity in your soul. You are a leader I really feel comfortable following."

Hawke blinked at her and then his bearded face broke into a smile, the lines on his face melting. "I really appreciate that, Lyra. You are quite welcome here, and I look forward to fighting alongside you."

She smiled and nodded, and then downed the rest of her drink before standing from the table.

"Now, I'm not nearly close enough to dying, so if you'll excuse me I will serve myself another drink."

Hawke chuckled and nodded before finishing his own. Lyra walked to the bar and slipped behind it, smiling at the bartender she worked with before holding her tankard under a barrel with a tap.

"Drinking on the job, are we, Robin," she heard Varric say behind her, and she smiled at him over her shoulder. She walked over to where he was leaning on the bar, sitting on a stool, and she chuckled at his lidded, drunken eyes.

"You won't tell, will you?" she joked, and Varric shook his head.

"Still can't believe you got me so well! You would make an intriguing character in a book," he mused, and Lyra drank from her ale.

"Just promise me my character won't have any moody agnst sex and I won't lie to you ever again," she winked, and Varric chuckled.

"That's a hard bargain you argue, Robin." He deliberated. "Fine, but I need _some_ character to have moody agnst sex with the elf one way or another."

"That's fair," she smiled.

"So, tell me your story. I'm all about stories, and yours seems to be the _most_ interesting."

"Oh, I need to be much more drunk for that, Varric."

"Challenge accepted, milady."

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Thank you for reading, let me know what you think! Next chapter should be up next weekend.

Have a wonderful day/night and take care of yourself!


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay, okay, Robin," Varric started, the dwarf leaning heavily on the table Lyra was sitting at. The Hanged Man had quieted down only a little from the loud roar it was not too long ago, the hour probably around midnight. Lyra shoved her half-full tankard of ale away from her, drunk enough that the smell of alcohol had begun to overwhelm her. She nodded at Varric, letting him know she was still conscious enough to listen.

"Hit me," she slurred, concentrating on focusing her eyes on the dwarf sitting across from her.

"The thing, that you do, the thing where you pretend to be, someone you're not…" he gestured to her, and she nodded, frowning.

"Acting? Spying? One of those," she shrugged and blinked slowly. Varric nodded quickly and continued, trying not to forget what he was trying to say.

"Aye, we could use that, to our advantage. Hear me out."

Fenris stumbled over, the front of the elf's armor stained with blood. He bumped into the table they were sitting at, dangerously holding a full pitcher, and poured more ale into Lyra's tankard.

"Mmnnoo…" Lyra groaned, shying away from the liquid, and almost falling off the bench in doing so.

"I know. Boss's orders." he slumped onto the bench next to Lyra, absently grabbing her arm to hold her back from falling off.

"Broody, what's that?" Varric asked casually, pointing to the blood stains on Fenris's chestplate. Fenris looked down and then back up to meet the dwarf's gaze, shaking his head in question. Varric blinked. "The _blood_?"

Fenris waived his question away and drank from his own mug, when the red-headed human woman came up behind them.

"There you are, Varric. The bartender should have cut you off an hour ago if he knew what was good for you." she glared pointedly, resting her hands on her armored hips. Lyra blinked up at her confusedly, trying to make her eyes focus. _I haven't been this drunk since Orzammar._ Varric made a noise and looked taken aback.

"I've never let anyone cut me off before in my _life_ ," he gathered his tankard closer to his chest protectively. She shook her head disappointedly and noticed Lyra's tipsy stare. Her posture softened some and her smile was small, but genuine.

"We haven't really met, yet. It's good to have another woman join in the crowd. I'm Aveline."

Lyra smiled up at her and offered her hand, to which Aveline shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Lyra. Forgive me for being a bit messy right now."

"We all had to go through it." she shook her head reassuringly, then cocked her head. "Where do you hail from, if I may ask?"

"I just travelled here from Ferelden." Lyra sobered some, as did Aveline. The woman paused, her voice dropped, and her brows came together.

"Maker. You stayed through the Blight, then." she said quietly, her posture tensing slightly. "I thought I recognized your accent. I'm from Ferelden, too, though Hawke probably filled you in on how we got here." she sat heavily next to Varric, the subject obviously hard for her. Lyra's brows came together.

"I only heard mention, but I am sorry for your loss." Lyra said softly, and Aveline met her eyes, pain suffusing her expression.

"Thank you... He was my husband."

Lyra closed her eyes, feeling the overwhelming weight of the thought of the Blight rest on her shoulders, more vulnerable in her drunken state. "I lost much to the Blight, as well."

"I am sorry to hear that," Aveline smiled sadly at her, the woman's eyes fierce, yet compassionate. "I am glad you made it here. We all need new beginnings, sometimes."

"I really appreciate that," Lyra said genuinely, an ounce of weight lifting from her shoulders. _I needed to hear that._

Aveline nodded before turning to the dwarf next to her. She shot her hand through his defensive stance and snatched the tankard out of his arms, bringing it to her lips faster than he could keep up with. Varric yelled out as she downed the rest of his drink. She set the tankard down on the table loudly and ignored him, meeting Lyra's eyes again. "You'll do well here. We're all hurting. But damn it, we'll hurt together."

Lyra's chest tightened as her heart swelled, and she nodded to the kind woman, thankful for her welcoming words. With that Aveline stood from the table, still ignoring Varric's retorts, and her seat was quickly filled with another human's, this one male, and blond.

"Did Aveline cut you off, Varric?" he asked the grumbling dwarf with a chuckle, before Fenris sighed loudly from beside her.

"I hope _you're_ not partaking," Fenris scowled drunkenly at the human. "At least Varric won't accidentally kill anyone if he loses control."

The human rolled his eyes and glared at him. "Hope you're having a great night too, Fenris. Surprised to see you here, did they really let slaves drink in Teventer?"

"Aye, the magisters were too busy cutting themselves up for demons to notice."

"At least they know how to have a better time than _you_ ," he filled his mug from the pitcher on the table. Lyra blinked at their exchange but stayed quiet, looking to Varric and meeting his drooping gaze.

"Ah, the family's all together now! Robin, may I introduce you to Blondie, coming in close second for Most Broody."

The human rolled his eyes and nodded to Lyra after drinking from his mug. "Lyra, was it? I'm Anders, this sorry lot's healer."

Lyra reached out and shook his hand, glancing at Fenris and wondering at his foul mood. "A pleasure, Anders. You sound like you're from Ferelden as well?"

"I am, been around here and there, though. Started travelling more since joining the Wardens."

Lyra's heart skipped a beat. _What a coincidence._ She struggled to remain impassive. "The Grey Wardens?"

Anders nodded, drinking from his mug again. "Aye. It's a long story, but I ended up here, hiding out from the damned Templars, figuring I'm doing more good healing people on my own."

Lyra nodded, understanding. _Our stories are similar._ "I must thank you for your service, then." he raised his eyes and met hers. She gave him a small smile. "And for your sacrifice."

He blinked and waived away her words, turning away, slightly bashful. "I, well, I'm no hero. Just have a shorter time limit for living, now."

Varric raised his arm, looking off to the distance and proclaiming in his scratchy voice, "Humble Warden, Servant of the people, rises from the ashes of oppression to serve Justice!"

"Oh _please_ …" Fenris's scowl grew deeper while Anders elbowed the drunk dwarf to shut him up, and Lyra chuckled from the sight of these strange friends.

Isabela swayed over to their table, the Rivani's shirt unbuttoned even more than it usually is and her fingers lingering as she slid her hand along Lyra's back. Lyra blinked up at the drunken woman, holding a spilling tankard in one hand and rubbing the back of her shoulder with the other, smiling down at her flirtingly as she teetered.

"Little Robin, you are so _pretty_ ," she swayed, bumping into her so that Lyra had to reach out and help steady her. Isabela leaned down and kissed her forehead loudly, making Lyra blink with widened eyes. She chuckled and smiled uncertainly up at the woman.

"To be called pretty by a woman as beautiful as yourself, Isabela," Lyra glanced beside her and met the eyes of Fenris, silently asking for help. Fenris sighed and interjected, speaking clearly so the drunken woman could understand him.

"Isabela, Hawke is looking for you. You should go find him."

"Ha!" she leaned against Lyra heavily, and Lyra had to turn her head away to keep from looking too intimate, meeting the knowing gazes of Anders and Varric across the table with a confused smile. Isabela drank from her mug, spilling some. "He doesn't want me. He'll have to come and find _me_."

Lyra then saw Hawke across the bar, near the wall, who had also happened to look up in time. He blinked and made his way over to their table quickly, Isabela drinking more of her alcohol and Lyra struggling to hold her up.

"There you are," Fenris grumbled as their leader swooped in, armored and everything, slightly blushed from his own alcohol intake. He met Lyra's worried gaze and reached for Isabela, the woman busy downing the rest of her drink.

"Isabela, shall we go-" he started, but when she saw him she detached herself from Lyra and stumbled into his arms, kissing him aggressively. She clutched onto his chestplate and dragged him away impatiently, leaving the three men shaking their heads and Lyra bewildered.

"I, um," she tried, but Anders shook his head.

"Don't even worry about it, I try not to."

Varric sighed heavily, looking past to his friend. "Yeah, we don't really know what's up with their relationship either. Blondie's right, just don't think about it."

Lyra looked down and nursed her own drink, thoughtful. Fenris nudged her, and she looked over at him, meeting his soft greens.

"I've told them about Lord Balgruff, and about the hideout we found. Everyone's eager to go on missions with you, and see the archer who 'saved my ass'," he gave her a half-smile, and she chuckled.

"I'm afraid I'll disappoint when everyone realizes my whole thing is _not_ being seen," she drank from her mug, and cocked her head. "I figure we should hit the hideout soon, since they must know we found them. But we'll definitely need backup," she mused.

"I agree; Hawke found out some information recently too, I know he'll want to hit it one of these nights."

Lyra nodded and blinked at herself, mentally reminding herself. _I no longer am a leader, making the decisions. Hawke sounds to be a capable leader. I will follow him and help him with his work, and keep a low profile._ She closed her eyes, feeling some relief. _I am allowed to rest, now. From leadership._ Her brows came together and she drank more, feeling anxious. _I must not bring much attention to myself._

Just then the man himself returned to the bar, and carried a tray of shots over to the table. They all looked up and groaned, Hawke beaming them all with a smile.

"It is midnight shot time! The real party starts now!" he expelled waves of his energy, beckoning all of the companions still conscious enough to come round the table. He met everyone's eyes, and smiled at Lyra. "To our newest member, our newest friend Lyra. I drink to you!"

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"ALRIGHT, that's it, bar's closed, _get out!_ "

The noise shot through her head like an arrow through her skull, and Lyra jolted up, banging her head on something hard above her.

"Agh!" _OUCH_. she shouted out, recoiling back on the sticky stone floor and blinking her eyes open with effort. It took her a few seconds to focus on what was above her, and she squinted in confusion, seeing only brown. _Wood?_

 _Oh my Gods it's a table. I'm under a table._

"Everyone up, if you're alive! Grab a body and take it with you on your way out!" the bartender shouted to her left, and she turned on the ground to see his boots march past the table she was under, as well as stirring bodies awaking on the floor and tables. She recognized a few; the redheaded dwarf rubbing his forehead as he sat up on the floor and leaned back against a table leg, the white-haired elf raising his head and blinking from where he sat on a bench slumped over on a table.

Lyra rubbed her eyes and felt her head pound in waves of pain that reverberated through her body, and she wiped her hands on her apron, not wanting to even think about what was on the floor she had passed out on.

"Fenris?" she croaked out, and watched him flinch from the noise, meeting her eyes with his reddened greens. He blinked at her, sitting up straighter, and he chuckled out painfully, shaking his head, his voice deeper and cracking.

"Lyra, you, are you alright under there?"

Lyra gave him a look and grumbled to herself as she crawled on her hands and knees, grabbing the table edge tightly and hauling herself up to her feet with more effort than she wanted to admit.

The bartender collected glasses and tankards loudly, and Lyra looked around at the Hanged Man to survey the damage. The bodies of her new companions lay strewn across the bar like a chaotic battle had taken place, and in the center of it all lay their fearless leader, sprawled on a table in his full armor and hugging an empty pitcher to his chest.

The bartender walked over to him with another pitcher, and dumped a couple gallons of water on the sleeping human, Hawke sputtering and jolting awake.

"Damn you, Hawke. You and your friends get the hell out of my bar."

The bearded human looked up and blinked at the bartender with his bright blues, dripping with water and armor askew, and his face broke into a grin.

"Corff, my friend! Good morning!" he said brightly, sitting up and rubbing the water from his eyes. The bartender sighed, annoyed, and angrily grabbed the pitcher still in Hawke's arms before stalking back behind the counter. Lyra watched everyone else stir awake finally, the moans and groans making up a chorus, as Hawke staggered over to the table Lyra was leaning heavily on. She looked up and met the kind eyes of the soaking wet man.

"What a night. You can take your alcohol, I'm impressed! I'll be happy if your rogue skills are _half_ as good as your singing."

Lyra blinked up at him, memories flooding her mind like a tsunami, and her cheeks heated up from remembering.

 _Her, Anders, Hawke, and Aveline, arms around each other and swaying as they sang the Ferelden melody. They stood on a table as they performed for the rest of the bar, most of the people around them annoyed and yelling._

"Oh Gods, my head…"

Anders staggered over as well, hand on his forehead as well. "Every time. We do this every time. This hangover hurts more than my _Joining_."

Lyra sputtered and laughed, and quickly hid her face with her hand to hide how much she could relate. _Same, Anders. I_ wish _this hangover was only as bad as my Grey Warden Joining._

She glanced over to the stressed out Corff at the bar, then met Hawke's gaze, worried and feeling guilty. Hawke nodded knowingly, lowering his voice. "Aye, Corff deals with our party's mess more often than he should have to. We all take turns, staying after and cleaning up; doing the night's dishes, mopping…"

"-Taking out dead bodies," Anders added, poking an unknown man lying face down on the floor, his hands faintly glowing yellow with healing magic. "This one doesn't look too good."

Lyra nodded and gave Hawke a small smile, as Varric stumbled over.

"I'll take this time, Hawke." he patted Lyra's arm as he passed and she smiled down at him. She looked up, intending to offer her help as well, before Hawke met her eyes.

"Would you help Fenris home? Varric and I should be enough to help Corff."

She nodded and turned to walk over to where Fenris still sat heavily on the bench, but walking turned out to be a much harder challenge than she had anticipated.

She stumbled and caught herself, and slowly made her way over to her friend. He met her eyes, his squinting in pain, and he growled under his breath.

"I never learn…" he set his shoulders and made to stand, and Lyra helped him up from the bench. Arms around shoulders, they helped each other navigate around the furniture and people of the tavern, finally making it to the door leading out to the lowtown streets.

"Falon'Din take me," Lyra muttered, the light from outside stabbing her eyes. They rested for a second, neither mentally ready for the trip.

"Remind me to kill Hawke next time I see him," Fenris growled, and they began their trek, hunched shoulders, eyes squinting, heads pounding. Lyra's body felt more in pain than it had in awhile, and yet her mouth couldn't stop smiling.

 _These people. I might have a real home here._

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"Varric, please, kindly fuck off," Lyra pleaded, begging him with her eyes. She knew he had a weak spot for puppy eyes.

They stood on a hill outside of Kirkwall, the sun setting in the distance, the temperature dropping pleasantly with the sunset.

"Robin, Robin. You do not know the perseverance of a man with a story to tell," he said, but then he made the mistake of meeting her eyes. She watched him melt right in front of her, and he sighed heavily, hunching in defeat.

"Alright, fine, but one of these days, you owe Varric a story."

"I've told you so many!"

"Yes, sporadically, with none of the information of _when_ or _where_ these events happened! Did you fall in love before or _after_ defeating that dragon? And are you absolutely _sure_ you don't have a long lost tragic lover?"

Lyra chuckled, and hid how much that last question hurt.

"Nothing so dramatic, Varric, that's for writers like you to come up with." she met his eyes and smiled at him apologetically. "One of these days, Varric, I'll tell you everything. It's just…" she looked away. "...a lot."

Just then, Merrill jogged up the slope of the mountain path to them.

"The time is here, Hawke says to set the ambush," she said quietly, and the two rogues nodded and got to work. Varric and Lyra worked efficiently, both of their knowledges in traps and poisons combining to form a scary ambush, indeed. Lyra glanced up and met the other elf's eyes, feeling Merrill's gaze. She fidgeted.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare, I just, I never thought we would have another Dalish in our group, and I just have so many questions…" she faltered, averting her eyes. Lyra straightened up from the trap she was setting.

"Aneth ara, Merrill. Ir Lanyra."

Merrill blinked. "Lanyra? Lyra is a nickname?"

Lyra nodded, and chuckled. "I spent a few years with mostly shems. Lanyra turned to Lyra with time. I've let it stick."

"A few _years_? I've been away from my clan for a few months. I can't fathom some of the things I see people do," she wrung her hands. Lyra nodded, smiling.

"I miss clan life often. I've never grown used to the city."

"I haven't either. Do you live in the alienage as well?"

Lyra nodded. "Yes, I just rented a room. It is good to know another neighbor."

"Ah, yes…" Merrill looked away, her hands wringing themselves again. "Fenris does live there as well, but he, I, he doesn't, we're not close," she stammered out. Lyra's brows came together.

 _He really has an aversion to mages. Even sweet ones, like her._

"Would you like to cook some Dalish dishes with me sometime? We could gather fresh ingredients out here, on our way back, if Hawke's not in a hurry," Lyra asked, and Merrill's eyes brightened considerably.

"I would love that! Thank you!"

"Of course," Lyra chuckled, and Varric piped up from down where he was setting a trap.

"Mind if an old dwarf could join, Daisy? I love the Hanged Man with all my heart, but one can only take so much of that food before it just gets sad."

"Oh, yes Varric! I've wanted everyone to try my favorite…"

Merrill rambled on happily, and after a few minutes of finishing their ambush, their human warrior leader lumbered over to them from farther up the path. He was breathing heavily, having run ahead to bait the bandits into running after him. Lyra looked up and met his stark blue eyes, alive from adrenaline, his bearded face breaking into a grin.

"They're almost here! Let's trap some bandits."

Lyra chuckled to herself as she raised her hood over her ears, unsheathing her bow and slipping quietly into some bushes, disappearing into the shadows.

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Fenris stirred in his bed, blinking his eyes open wondering what time it was. _Hawke had us up late last night. None of us have a real sleep schedule anymore_.

Though when he thought about it, it didn't really bother him. Hawke never pushed them too hard for too long, and Fenris knew he would never force or pressure anyone to help him if they were needed rest.

Fenris sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck and peering out the window, seeing it to be late afternoon, nearly evening. _I slept long_.

His stomach grumbled, and he frowned at the thought of his empty pantry. _Food prices are spiking, just like everything else in this damned city._

He rose regardless, guessing he'll just end up at the Hanged Man again and pilfer stray food there. Unless…

He glanced at the wall to his right absently; the wall he shared with his new neighbor. _She was on the mission last night with me. Has she awoken?_

He threw on a ragged shirt and left his apartment without shoes, figuring he'd just check her place real quick. He opened his door, expecting the foul stench of lowtown; the smell of the poor, of waste and fear. Like usual. But instead he was met with a warm wave of _food_ , cooking spiced meat and herbs like he'd never smelled before.

He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the waning light, and beheld the sight of a long line of children stretched from the stairs leading down to the alienage, all the way to the giant tree that was the center. And at the front of the line, under the painted oak's leaves, was his redhead neighbor, wearing her apron but without her makeup, stirring the largest pot he'd ever seen. A _cauldron_ would be a more appropriate term.

The sound of chittering children filled the air, as a dozen or so dirty little elflings waited in the line impatiently, each holding a bowl of whatever size they could find.

Fenris walked a few feet out of his home, blinking at the sight, and watched Lyra bend down and take the bowl the child was handing her. She stuck her hand down into the giant pot and scooped a portion of the food, looking to be a simple meat and vegetable stew, and handed it carefully to the trembling elven boy.

She knelt down to the child's level and said something softly to him that Fenris couldn't hear, before also handing the boy a rag. The boy nodded to her and tottered away with his bowl, sitting down on the cobblestone a ways off with a few other children his age, each looking as ragged and dirty as he did. Watching the children eat made Fenris's heart clench; they scarfed down the food like it was their first meal in days. _It could very well be, their first meal in days._

He walked slowly towards his neighbor, unused to the amount of public traffic that had befallen the alienage. She sensed his approach and paused in her work, meeting his eyes and giving him a smile.

"Where did you get all this?" he asked her softly, and she nodded before reaching down and taking another bowl.

"I went hunting." she handed the elfling the bowl of soup and knelt down again, meeting the scared child's eyes and speaking in a gentle voice. "Will you help me, young one? Will you gather as much trash as you can hold, and throw it down the chute?"

The child nodded with big eyes, and she smiled at him softly, her voice kind. "Eat, first."

The boy nodded again and went to join his friends, energy in his little steps. Fenris looked at Lyra.

"How far into the mountains did you have to go to find deer?"

"Not too far. I left some larger traps a while ago, while I was on a mission with Merrill and Varric." she continued in her work, handing out bowls of soup, and asking small favors of the older children. "The vegetables are scattered, but I found a few wild patches on my way to the traps. The pot…" she gave Fenris a half smile and lowered her voice. "Well, I stole the pot."

Merrill walked over to them, jotting something down on a small list she was holding. "...and we need someone to empty the gutters, and another to clear out those wasp nests. Lyra I think I have some more-"

Merrill stopped short when she saw Fenris, and she averted her gaze quickly. Lyra picked up the conversation smoothly.

"Thank you, Merrill. I've given the little tasks you gave me to some of the children; they seem to be working hard," she gestured around the alienage, one child scrubbing a lamppost, another taking an armful of trash to the garbage shoot. Merrill recovered, nodding nervously.

"I'm glad to hear. Your stew smells delicious, by the way. I recognize some of the herbs and spices; it's good to smell Dalish again."

They stood in a silence as Lyra continued handing out soup, the line of children almost done. Fenris cleared his throat, looking to the two elven women beside him.

"This… I haven't seen anything like this before, here. You both are doing good work."

Lyra met his eyes with her soft blue-greens, smiling at him and nodding, and Merrill met his gaze as well, her tense shoulders lowering an inch.

"Thank you, Fenris. Would you… would you like to help?"

He looked at her for a moment, thinking, and then nodding. "Yes. I will help."


	3. Chapter 3

" _Ah!" Lyra shouted out in pain, jolting from her bedroll and feeling as if she were in the middle of battle. Her heart hammered in her chest as she wiped her brow, the campfire pit in front of her simmering down to nothing but glowing ashes. It was the middle of the night._

" _It gets easier," she heard a voice sound off to her left, and she took a deep breath in to settle her heart as she looked over to find her fellow Grey Warden, sitting and staring at the fire as well. He looked solemn in the quiet night, his face void of its usual cheer, and his eyes held an understanding sadness as he met her gaze._

" _It… it seemed so real," Lyra murmured softly, recollecting flashes and scenes of the nightmare that had overtaken her that night. Alistair shrugged._

" _It_ was _real. Or, probably." he shifted to stand, and moved over a few feet to sit next to her. He looked strange in only a tunic and trousers; Lyra was used to only seeing him in his armor. "It's part of being a Grey Warden. Seeing the horde, and the Archdemon that leads it. We all have the dreams."_

 _Lyra nodded and stared into the fire, allowing herself some time to relax so she may compose herself. She closed her eyes then; the fire's light, though diminishing and soft, was still overstimulating, the entirety of the last few weeks overwhelming her like a wave of dread. It felt like there was a rope constricting her chest, it was so hard to breathe._

" _Is it really, only us?" she whispered, knowing the answer. They hadn't heard from any other Grey Wardens since Ostagar. Alistair breathed in deeply beside her, though his breath was shaky. She felt his eyes on her, though when she met them, they offered her more comfort than the fire did._

" _It, may be just us. But we've made it together, so far."_

 _Lyra blinked at him, searching his eyes and finding only sincerity and hope, and just like that the rope loosened and she could breathe in deeply again. She felt a smile grace her lips; the first real smile she had had, probably in months. She nodded to him, smiling at him with her eyes._

" _You're right."_

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Lyra awoke to banging, blinking up at the ceiling of her dark room. Her head spun, and she blinked away the headache pain as she hauled her body up from the floor of her apartment with a grunt.

 _Gods, my head._

The insistent knocking continued as she threw a shawl on hastily to cover herself mostly, the memories of the drunken night, and morning, coming back to her. _Morning must have been only a few hours ago, with how exhausted I am._

"Coming!" she yelled as she leaned against the wall, already squinting her eyes in preparation for the sun.

The knocking stopped as she unlocked and opened her door, shielding her eyes with a hand from the afternoon sun. She blinked as her eyes adjusted, and met the bloodshot gaze of her neighbor.

"Lyra, I'm sorry to wake you," he began, his voice low and scratchy and matching his disheveled look. His clothes were the same ones he had been wearing last night, when they were all in the Hanged Man, like usual. Lyra blinked at him and her brows came together, realizing he should be sleeping too.

"Fenris, are you alright?" she coughed, clearing her throat as well, and she finally noticed the sharp gleam of adrenaline in his eyes. He nodded quickly, gesturing inside her home.

"Yes. May I come in?"

She blinked and nodded, ushering him inside quickly, her hairs rising from sensing his intensity. _His tone, what happened?_

She closed the door behind them, knowing he wanted to speak to her away from other ears, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her as he began to pace in her apartment.

"He's here," he met her eyes seriously, his voice laced with anticipation, and with anger. "In _Kirkwall_. Varric found his hideout."

Lyra watched her friend stalk over to her table near the wall where she keeps her armor and weapons, his body language tensed, his figure primed like a wolf in hunting.

 _He? He doesn't mean…_

"Danarius?" she asked quietly, seriousness setting in. He responded in a sharp tone, not looking up.

" _Yes_."

Her eyes widened as she watched him gather her leather armor in his arms, turning to her and walking up to her purposefully. His green eyes locked with hers, and his tone softened a degree. "Varric says to meet him at Hawke's place in Lowtown as soon as we can. We must hurry, I don't know how long he'll be here."

Lyra nodded and unfroze, taking her armor from him and setting her shoulders, meeting his eyes determinedly. "I'll be ready immediately."

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, looking between her eyes for a moment and saying softly, his tone colored in relief. "Thank you."

He broke away and opened her door swiftly, leaving and entering his place next door, to get his armor and weapon as well. Lyra pulled her leather on quickly, accustomed to getting ready under pressure, raising her hood and securing her quiver, bow, and daggers on her back. She slipped a few throwing knives and potions into her pockets before walking out and locking her door behind her.

 _Danarius. So he finally shows up._

Her eyes narrowed as she opened Fenris's door, it left open ajar from his rush inside.

 _The man who hurt my friend. No, more than hurt._

She slipped into his apartment, watching as he picked up his breastplate from where he stood half-dressed in the tiny room. He glanced up, his expression severe, and met her eyes as she approached him.

 _That anyone would do, such horrific, cruel things to a person…_

She frowned as she reached him, him taking longer to dress in his armor than usual, and she stopped when she saw. His fingers, trying desperately to buckle his armor in his hurry, _shaking_. Her heart clenched painfully.

 _My dear, dear friend._

Lyra gently brushed his shaking fingers aside, and she went to work buckling the many straps that held the heavy armor together. She worked efficiently, her fingers nimble as he stood there for her, and it was only then, standing so close to him, that she noticed his irregular breathing.

She glanced up and met his eyes already looking at her, and hers widened when she saw the tsunami of emotions roiling around in his gaze. Pain, fear, anxiety, anger, pain, anger, anger, _anger,_ _ **anger**_ …

She stopped and reached a hand up slowly as he searched her gaze for answers. She held his cheek, ever so softly, and looked back and forth between his eyes. " _Fenris_ ," she rubbed his cheek with her thumb as he stood there and struggled silently. "It's going to be alright."

He blinked at her as she gave him a small smile, a serious smile. She moved her hand from his cheek to his chest, resting on the metal she had finished securing. "Let's go."

He breathed in deeply for a moment before nodding. He slung his giant sword on his back, followed her out of his apartment, and locked his door behind them.

They nearly ran through the streets of Lowtown, making people flinch out of the way of two armed and armored elves with a place to be. Lyra thought tact as she jogged, keeping a close eye on Fenris and noting his aggravation. _An attack, in broad daylight, of a Tevinter Magister slavemaster in the City won't go well with the city guard, but we can't risk waiting til dark and blow our surprise, but what does it matter since they will probably have traps and ambushes set for us…_

They finally reached Gamlen's house, both breathing heavily, as Varric slammed open the door and was followed by a ruffled Hawke in his misshapen armor. The leader looked like he had just woken up as well, and if Lyra remembered last night correctly, he would be having an even worse hangover than she was having right now.

"Mornin'! I hear we're hunting some slaver fucks," Hawke rubbed his face as he stepped down from his home, and Varric looked over the three, meeting Fenris's gaze.

"Aye, I just received word from a contact. Danarius actually has his own mansion here, in Hightown. It's been here under our noses."

Fenris scowled, shifting from one foot to the other, unable to keep still. "Hightown. Of course." he glared off in the general direction of the upper city, distaste coloring his words. "He always appreciated _luxury_. Prepare to fight demons."

He set off ahead, shoulders hunched, fists clenched at his sides, and the other three shared looks before quickly following him up the many stairs to Hightown.

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"I should have _known_ ," Fenris sneered, his voice echoing off the tall ceiling as he kicked a dead body away angrily. Varric was gathering bolts from around the grand room while Hawke and Lyra approached the glowing elf. His markings pulsed in a rhythm, along his racing heartbeat, and Lyra met Hawke's gaze to share a look of concern. Fenris growled in frustration, his movements stiff in anger. "I should have known he wouldn't be here."

He stopped behind a grand lounge couch in front of the fireplace, and he gripped the back of the upholstery with his armored hands, piercing the cloth. Hawke approached him, the large human surprisingly gentle in his body language, and Fenris looked up at him, deflating slightly.

"Just more of his lackeys…" Fenris shook his head in disappointment, and Hawke sighed deeply, standing next to him near the fireplace.

"He's cautious. Won't show his face." Hawke raised a large hand and rested it on Fenris's shoulder, meeting his eyes and helping the elf calm down. He gave Fenris a smile. "And he's right to be afraid. You have us, backing you up."

Fenris's shoulders let go of their tension, his eyes closing and his posture giving in to fatigue. Lyra approached him from his other side, looking up and returning Hawke's smile softly before touching Fenris's arm.

"This wasn't a waste, Fenris. We've gained valuable information from the few mercenaries who would talk. We're closer, now, to finding him."

Fenris nodded and let out a hard breath, looking over to meet her eyes. His greens were so tired, from being suspended in hope and anticipation, to learning he must wait longer for his former master's hunt to end. "I know. You're right…" he looked between her and Hawke. "Thank you, for helping me. I wouldn't have been able to do any of this on my own."

Hawke squeezed his shoulder before letting go and walking over to where Varric was bent down gathering bolts. Fenris met Lyra's gaze, her blue-greens always so curious. He lowered his voice.

"I realize I hadn't really asked you for your help for this. I banged against your door until you woke up," he started, looking between her eyes. "I just expected you to help me, without even asking you."

Fenris looked away, staring at the fireplace in front of them, and Lyra touched his arm again, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

"I'm glad," she said softly, and he glanced over, his greens curious, and open. Vulnerable. She let her fingers fall down his arm, until they found themselves slipping into his hand. His greens widened for a second, and she gave him the smallest smile, her eyes twinkling. "You should know, I would drop anything if you needed me to."

He blinked at her, his hand unfamiliar in the feeling of holding another's, but the warm feeling in his chest made it very much welcomed. _Has her eyes, always glimmered like lost gemstones in the faint light as they do?_ He tightened his fingers and slipped them in between hers on instinct, interlocking them, and felt his chest tighten from how slender and cool they were next to his. The light from the window illuminated a stray strand of her red-orange hair, the softest pink glow lighting her cheekbones. _Is it, getting hot in here?_

"Hey Broody! I think we found something," Varric called from one of the connecting rooms. Fenris unfroze from where he was standing, realizing he had been staring at Lyra for a longer than necessary pause. Their hands fell away as they moved to where Varric was calling from, and they finished scouring the mansion for findings and loot.

He did, though, catch himself glancing over to the hooded elf every so often, wondering, thinking, and noting the residual tingling in his gut that got stronger the closer they were.

 _I would drop anything for you, too, Lyra._

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"Um… I, uh…" Fenris tried, standing awkwardly as he watched his friend bend over and reach down into the stone well. They stood in the elven alienage, at the public water source, the sun waning in the early evening and the temperature dropping. Lyra was bent over the well, reaching down into it as far as she could and doing Maker knows what, and Fenris felt the tips of his ears heat up as he tried to find a place to poke her to get her attention that wouldn't be…

"Aha!" she exclaimed, her voice a far off echo from where her head was down the well, slightly kicking her legs in triumph. She hoisted herself back up, nearly knocking Fenris back as she abruptly returned to standing.

"Oof! Sorry," she turned and grabbed him quickly to keep him from stumbling back, and she looked up and blinked when she realized she knew him. "Fenris! Come, I must show you."

She pulled him over to the other side of the well, where he beheld a system of pipes and levers newly welded together, running down into the well where she had been securing it. He raised his brows at her, quite confused, though thoroughly enjoying the excitement rolling off of her in waves.

"I've been trying, to set up a sort of plumbing system, connecting from the water source, and going through this network of pipes to here…" she showed him another pipe running from the well over to the nearby building, where it ran directly up the wall for about 6 feet before it came straight out, suspended above them. He blinked up at it, then blinked at her, not really understanding all the words she was saying but gathering that she was attempting to control the water from the water source, and divert it through this pipe up the wall, but why…?

"...and then I thought, this would be perfect! If I regulate the pressure like this, then…" she reached up and screwed a sort of metal disk with little holes onto the pipe reaching out from the wall, and then turned a valve below. She pulled him to step back a few steps as the pipe sputtered to life, water flowing out from above, streaming out of the few dozen little holes so that it looked like a constant rain. Lyra clapped and smiled at her success, and Fenris shook his head in wonder, smiling at her invention. _A shower_.

"This works wonderfully," she said to herself, bending down to tighten a loose pipe, and Fenris reached a hand out and felt the running water, wondering what it would feel like to bathe with it.

"It's like… the smallest waterfall," he said softly, meeting her eyes as she turned the valve again to stop the running water. She smiled at him, and nodded, her blue-greens alive in delight.

"Yes. That has to be one of the things I miss most, from living with the Dalish." she wiped her hands on her apron. "Bathing, in a waterfall. Showering."

Fenris felt a half-smile tug at his mouth as he looked at her, and he was about to say something but he was interrupted by the sound of curious children.

He and Lyra looked over and watched the approach of some young resident children, still looking ragged and dirty but less scrawny now since the soup Merrill, Lyra, and Fenris had started giving out more often. Fenris recognized most of the alienage children now; the younger ones, eyes wide and trusting, one of them came up to him and clutched at his pant leg with his tiny fingers as he looked upon Lyra's contraption. The older elflings, protectors of the younger ones and homeless ones, more cautious in nature but slowly coming to trust Fenris and his friends with time.

Lyra bent low and greeted the children with a smile, murmuring 'Da'len, da'len," and touching the children fondly. Fenris bent down as well, turning to the small elfling who had come up to him. The child's big eyes blinked at him curiously, no doubt interested in his white hair and blue markings like all of the children were, and Fenris chuckled softly as he wiped a smudge of dirt from the child's cheek with his thumb.

 _A few weeks ago, I had no wish to ever interact with children._ Fenris thought, ruffling the child's hair and making him giggle before he ran away. _I was most uncomfortable with people my own age, let alone younger people._ But he glanced over to his friend, her laughter contagious as she hoisted up two elflings to rest on either of her hips, their arms wrapping around her neck to hold on. _Her example is easy to follow. I never thought to find, that young children are easier to be around than adults sometimes._ He watched the children's' little hands play with her hair as she led the group over to her new invention, followed by a chorus of the new word the children had for her; _Hahren_ , or elder.

Fenris smiled to himself as he watched her demonstrate how to use the shower to the children with animated hand gestures and excited words, the children watching intently with gaping mouths of wonder. She built up the suspense, wrapping the children into her performance, before finally turning the valve and starting the shower, causing a chorus of excited exclamations as the children all ran to feel the falling water.

Fenris watched her contentedly, wondering at the genuine care she showed the grubby children, admiring her soft but firm directions of how to conserve the water and use it responsibly. He had gotten used to hearing 'Hahren' when she was around, the title definitely earned. The children used it when referring to her, but some of the adults had started as well; both the adults who had offered help when they gave out stew, and the adults who were the poorer parents of some of the children who ran through the streets.

 _That's right; she was a leader, once. If I remember correctly._ He thought, recalling their few conversations of her life before he met her. _Government official? Battlemaster and rogue? Diplomat of Peace?_ It was a lot, even from the few sentences she had shared, for him to accept. But, watching her here and fighting next to her for the last month, it was easy to fathom.

 _I remain curious for details, however. Whether or not I'd like to admit it._

She had deflected Varric's questions with grace, and had been so casual in steering the conversations to asking about other people's' pasts and presents instead of her own.

Fenris watched as she pulled out a rag and began demonstrating to the children how to wet the rag and wash themselves, while turning off the water to keep from wasting it. He smiled softly as one of the smaller elves climbed up onto her lap, sitting poised like it was an honor and she was the grandest throne.

 _She must not want to face her past._ He sobered, realizing they were very similar. Lyra stood from the throng of younglings around her, holding the one that had been sitting on her lap. She kissed his forehead and tickled him until he giggled before setting him down, the child tottering off with the others. She finally looked over at him, feeling his gaze, her hair shining in the afternoon sun, her eyes crinkling in a smile when they met his. He returned her smile without trying, conscious of the way his heart had started beating faster when she looked at him. _All the good she does. And she takes a moment, to smile at_ me.

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 **If you have time, please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Show me again, once more, Kitten?" Isabela murmured gently, leaning over the beer-soaked wooden table in the Hanged Man and bumping against Lyra to get a better look at what Merrill was showing them. The bar around them was loud, men and women shouting and drinking, the hour still early evening. Merrill smiled eagerly at the two other women, one wearing pirate garb and the other wearing an apron, and all three of them holding their own spool of yarn. Merrill with fuzzy pink yarn, Lyra with hardy green, and Isabela with soft red yarn.

"Like this, Isabela; yarn over, insert into the stitch, pull through, pull through two. You have it!" she exclaimed, and Isabela gasped, holding her beginnings of a mitten with joy in her eyes.

"Peaches 'n cream!" she whooped, her whole body wiggling happily while carefully keeping her stitching steady so as to not lose her place. Lyra frowned to herself, leaning over to get a better look.

"What am I missing…" she murmured to herself, studying her own messy clump of yarn intently, thinking if she focused hard enough it would come to her. Isabela pointed to her work and helped her out, right as a fourth lady approached their dirty table in the middle of the bar.

"Sorry I'm late, everyone, you won't even _believe_ what my uncle did today…" Bethany slumped into the bench next to Merrill, the woman pulling out her own blue yarn from her satchel.

The friends caught up together, Merrill leading the show in a lesson of knitting and crocheting, Isabela buying the table a round of drinks after a while. The night wore on and more people entered the bar, the alcohol flowing and the people bustling. Lyra looked up after finally getting a stitch down, dismay overtaking her expression.

"So many people tonight. They need help behind the counter."

Isabela waived away the mass of people behind them, smiling at Lyra kindly. "Ah, don't worry about them. These people know where the booze is; they find it in their sleep."

Bethany spoke up, looking up from her small blue coaster. "My brother should be here any minute, Lyra. I think he wants to talk to all of us."

Lyra nodded as a few more of their friends appeared, Anders looking worn from an evening of healing the public, Varric looking tipsy from… living.

Finally the man they were all looking for weaved his way through the bar, his armor splashed with dried blood and his eyes fiery.

"Good evening, everyone!" he smiled warmly and met all of his companions' eyes in turn. "We have work to do, tonight."

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"This one," Lyra whispered, meeting Isabela's gaze intently. The elf gestured to the mansion up ahead, looking like any other rich noble's mansion in Hightown. Isabela nodded.

"Right. Let's sneak right in and put this sorry man to rest."

They shared a smile before creeping together along the wall, the two rogues the only ones comfortable enough among Hawke's companions to enter this way. Lyra glanced around them, seeing the dark alleyway deserted, then knelt down to the basement door to take a look at the lock.

 _The others should be near the front entrance by now._ She fiddled with the lock for a moment before it clicked open, and she silently slid it from the latch and set it down carefully on the ground.

Isabela grabbed one door and she grabbed the other, and they slowly lifted the doors together, slow enough that the hinges wouldn't squeak. Their eyes adjusted to the deeper darkness below, and they crept into the bowels of the mansion, closing the basement door behind them.

Lyra listened for a minute, hearing the faint sounds of far off voices echoing along the stone walls. Isabela slid her daggers from her back, spinning them a few times to warm up, and Lyra readied her bow.

The women snuck along the dark hallways until they came upon a candlelit room, the sound of two of Balgruff's men arguing around the corner. Lyra and Isabela locked eyes, nodding to each other when they had communicated their nonverbal plan. Lyra knocked an arrow and aimed it at one of the men, as Isabela poised at the ready to strike. In the man's mid-sentence, Lyra loosed her arrow and watched it pummel straight through the man's left eye socket, jerking him back and silencing him. Isabela lunged from the shadows right as he fell, stabbing the second man in the back with both of her curved daggers.

The hallway was silent, and the women continued on the path up through the mansion, working efficiently and assassinating the mercenaries with deadly precision.

 _Now, Balgruff won't have an escape route._ Lyra thought, appraising Hawke's plan to herself. She and Isabela reached the ground floor, the two peering up from the staircase to see a mass of twenty men about, some guarding the door, others sitting at tables and drinking with cards. Lyra looked over at her partner and cocked her head thoughtfully, a small smile coming to her lips and her voice the softest whisper.

"I think it's time…" she unclipped three of her home-brewed grenades from her belt. "...for some chaos, what do you say?"

Isabela's eyes widened and she received one of the mini bombs Lyra was handing her, her eyes glinting and her smile mischievous.

"Absolutely."

They threw the grenades out in separate directions, one to a clump of them standing by the main front door, one to two sitting in a corner sharpening swords, and the third on top of the very table that four of them sat at, the bomb crashing into the pile of betting coins in the center of the table.

The explosions rocked the mansion in unison, the shouts of the mercenaries drowned out or silenced in the few seconds that followed. Lyra and Isabela lunged in motion a second later, Isabela jumping at and stabbing those still standing while Lyra took out the ones attempting to escape to the second floor with deadly speed and accuracy. A moment later the front door burst in, wood chips flying from the broken hinges as Hawke barged in with a roar, followed closely by Fenris and Aveline with swords in hand. Together the five quickly dispatched the remaining men on the first floor, completing their joint attack plan.

"Nicely done!" Hawke remarked as he sheathed his giant sword, blue eyes flashing a grin as he looked over his companions for injuries. Fenris locked eyes with Lyra the second he found her after she stood from the shadows hiding her in a corner. The side of his mouth lifted in a smile, his veins glowed a faint white.

"We finally put an end to this," he strode over to her and she nodded to him, smiling, and they grasped hands briefly in greeting. His eyes were alive from the fighting, but soft as they looked at her. "The man we've been hunting, since we met."

A fluttering feeling grew in Lyra's stomach from how he looked at her. She spoke to just him, her voice lowered slightly. "These few months have been well worth it. I should thank the man, when we find him."

His eyes flickered between hers for a few moments, as Aveline pushed over pieces of the shattered table, the coins clinking loudly as they fell. "We should hurry. If the main man's on the second floor, he may be able to escape through a window."

Lyra unfroze and nodded to her, detaching herself from the greens she so often became lost in. The group made for the stairs and she centered her focus, ready to capture this corrupt noble and give him to Aveline to serve whatever justice Kirkwall deemed.

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The sun was bright, shining through the high windows in the large mansion. Lyra looked up at the windows in the main room, opposite the wall with the fireplace and couches. Most of the floor of the room was littered with the debris of their attack a few days ago; the blood stains old and the broken furniture strewn around.

Lyra set down a large knapsack and wooden crate near one of the walls, the small amount of Fenris's belongings in there dwarfed by the huge room she was in. She heard the front door close behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see Fenris carry the rest of his belongings in large bags slung over his shoulders.

He was hunched from the effort it took to lug a hundred or so pounds of stuff from the Lowtown alienage all the way up to Danarius's mansion in Hightown. He dropped his belongings next to the large knapsack and crate, rubbing his neck and stretching his back from the labor. His greens flashed from under his white bangs, feeling her gaze on him, and he straightened up.

"Thank you, Lyra. I wouldn't have wanted to make that trip a second time."

She smiled and nodded, waving away his words. "Don't mention it. We don't get enough exercise every day."

Fenris huffed and returned her small smile, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment before surveying the damage their team had left after clearing the mansion of Danarius's mercenaries. He stayed quiet, his smile fading, his mind troubled and his eyes far away. Lyra moved a little closer, turning and surveying the chaotic scene in front of them, before asking him softly.

"You really wish to live here?"

He sighed heavily and nodded. "No, not really." he glanced at her beside him, meeting her gaze and then glancing away quickly before he continued. "The… the alienage has become the only home I've ever really felt…" he frowned, thinking, "... _comfortable_ , in, that I can remember. I…" he swallowed, searching for words. "I don't want to leave the community there. It's… the people there, have grown on me. Especially after you moved in."

He looked down and took a few steps, stopping and turning to her, raising his head and meeting her eyes. "But I can't stay there, knowing that Danarius will send people after me. I can't put the people there in danger. I can't put _you_ …" he scowled angrily. "I will wait for him here, in case he decides to send any more mercenaries, or Maker willing he comes himself. This needs to end."

Lyra watched him with widened eyes, seeing the internal struggle he was concealing and feeling the pain he was under in her own chest. She raised a hand and rested it on his arm, looking off to the wreckage in front of them.

She couldn't think of anything to say to respond to that, so they stood together for a moment, and she slid her arm through his, leaning to rest her head on top of his shoulder. She spoke softly into the large room.

"You must visit the alienage, from time to time. Your presence there, will be missed."

He seemed to release some tension in his shoulders, turning his head slightly to look at her, his voice lowering. "I, haven't said this to you yet, but I should have. You've been a real friend to me."

A warm feeling rippled through her gut, and she slightly tightened her hold on his arm, hiding how her heart had started to beat faster. "You've been the only thing keeping me sane from moving into this city, Fenris." She raised her head and looked up at him, stomaching a shock from how close his greens were. How they looked at her, so immersed. The corner of her mouth lifted, her eyes softened, and her voice lowered of its own accord. "I've not thanked you, either."

He blinked at her, and suddenly the look he gave her deepened further, regarding her with an intensity and intimacy she hadn't felt in so long. _Spirits._

She broke the eye contact, looking down and then over to the fireplace, and unfroze her feet, taking a few steps over to the closest broken piece of furniture; a smashed chair, next to a smashed table. She bent down and gathered the broken pieces into her arms, as much as she could carry, and turned and made her way to the front door, her friend blinking at her with a confused look. She smiled at him, saying as she passed him, "Well I cannot leave you here with this mess; we must tidy this place while the sun is up."

Fenris watched her as she took the pile of trash outside, and when she returned, he passed her with his own armful of wood pieces, his mouth a half smile and his eyes regarding her fondly as they passed.

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"We haven't done a mission like this before. With such high risks." Fenris broke the silence, his words echoing off the distant walls in the main dining room of Danarius's mansion. He and Lyra had been simply sharing the space for the last few hours, with him cleaning his weapons, and her working on whatever project she was currently on for the alienage. This was pretty normal; they spent most days like this, both of them doing their own things but just wishing to do them together. She raised her head from where she sat on the floor near the fireplace and nodded at him in response.

"I agree. I know we are capable, but… there is more danger than usual." She set her tools aside and regarded Fenris. "Are you worried? You are not one to feel apprehension."

He was about to shake his head, out of habitual social courtesy. But he paused and met her gaze, seeing her, seeing _her_ , and thinking about how much she had come to mean to him these last months.

 _I don't know why I'm worried. But dreams have been plaguing me. Strange dreams, nightmares of you being injured, Lyra. Of you being burned, or shot. Especially since you've started fighting with your daggers more._

Fenris met the curious blue-greens that blinked at him, her red hair tied back in a messy bun from her work, her feet bare of her boots since she had been here for the last few hours. He met her eyes, that looked at him softly, but he knew they could also perceive the tiniest details, the hidden truths in what she was looking at. _I can't lie to her._

"Yes, I'm worried."

He watched her brows come together and she stood, approaching him where he lounged in his armchair. He sat up straighter when she reached him, and he looked up into her beautiful eyes framed by her dark tattoos, seeing only feelings of care and compassion in her expression. She laid a hand on his shoulder, but offered no words, and he felt the now familiar tightness enter his chest at how close she was. She knew words would not do as much good as a small touch would.

She bent slightly and reached out to gently hold his angular face in her hands. He lost himself in her eyes, absolutely loving how much care she had for him, and then Lyra bent and lightly kissed his forehead. He froze from the affection, and focused on calming his fast beating heart. The room was silent except for the sound of the crackling fire in the fireplace, and she whispered to him, her hands still holding his face, her lips still resting on his forehead.

"Promise me, you'll be careful tomorrow."

Fenris felt a shiver run down his back, the sound of her voice so close to him, and the feel of her lips moving against his skin making him heat up from the intimacy. She pulled away then, and she averted her eyes. He stared up at her, realizing with a start, that she was worried about him, too. He reached out and grasped her hand lying by her side, and her eyes flew to meet his.

"I can't promise anything, if you're ever in danger."

He watched her swallow from his words, and then she squeezed his hand. Her eyes were wide as they watched him, and fear gripped his insides, hoping he had not said anything to offend her. Her mouth formed a soft, hesitant smile, though her eyes remained wide, and her voice lowered considerably.

" _Fenris_. You are always in the middle of the fray. You, Hawke, Aveline. You damned warriors _throw_ yourselves into danger, I spend most of the time in battle watching you head straight _towards_ the danger!"

Fenris's expression relaxed, and he smiled up at her. "I have no fear, knowing you have my back from the shadows." He sobered, and looked at her meaningfully. "Imagine the fear _I_ feel, never knowing where you are during a fight, and wondering if you are hurt."

She blinked. "You worry about me?"

Fenris stared at her incredulously. "Of _course_ I worry about you." He shook his head at her ridiculousness and rolled his eyes at her lightly. "Maker, Lyra. Who would I drink with every night if you weren't here?"

She huffed, though her smile was genuine. "Varric. Or Anders."

Fenris gave her a look but shared her smile. "I'd rather not, thanks."

She lightly pushed him, and he winked at her, making her smile grow. She joked, "I'd be bored as hell if you died, Fenris."

He exhaled in a laugh, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head. "Aw, thanks. Good to know I'm good entertainment."

She winked, then squeezed his hand again before letting go, and politely averted her eyes once again. He watched her walk back to her place on the floor near the fire, her miscellaneous pipes and soldering iron for her project strewn across the floor. He didn't quite understand everything she did, but he knew she planned to add a sort of mass plumbing system to the commune space in the alienage, to better the public health. She was always working on some project that made the lives of the city elves' easier, and for that, he admired and appreciated her greatly.

"I never ask, but would you like any help with your projects?"

She looked at him over her shoulder, surprised. She have him a large smile. "I would love help. Thank you."

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Fenris deflected a sword slash from a mercenary, and then promptly shoved his sword into his stomach. He felt the sick crunch of bones breaking under impact, and then the slick wet sound of him yanking his sword out of the already dead man.

Chaos surrounded him, and he faintly heard Hawke yell to his left, the sounds of battle echoing off the walls of the cavern they were in.

Fenris felt heat to his right, and he barely dodged a fireball from an apostate. He raised his arms to try and block himself from most of the fire when an arrow stuck out of the mage's neck, and he fell right in front of him. Fenris glanced up to his left, in the direction where the arrow came from, and he met her blue-green eyes from where she crouched in the shadow of a nook in the cavern wall, and she signaled to him, her eyes wide and alert from under her hood. Fenris nodded and then sprinted towards Hawke, where their leader was facing two mercenaries with swords and one apostate. Another arrow stuck in one swordsman's neck as he entered the fight, and he and Hawke finished off the two left over with Lyra as their support.

He and Hawke regained their breaths for a few seconds, but Fenris remained alert. Lyra hadn't joined them; she had stayed among the shadows. That told him that their fight wasn't over yet.

"Merrill is still working on it?" Hawke asked as they both searched the area with their eyes. The ground was covered in bleeding bodies, the cavern cast in flickering shadow from the torchlight.

"Last I saw, she was cutting up her hands well enough," Fenris growled, and he heard Hawke sigh.

"That barrier shouldn't last much longer. Then we can get out of here in one piece."

They had been fighting off waves of apostates and mercenaries for more than half an hour, with Hawke, Fenris, and Lyra defending themselves while Merrill worked on dispelling the magic barrier around the corner that was trapping them inside.

"This is what we get for choosing to play into their ambush," Fenris muttered, glancing around above and seeing the small glint of metal, on a cliff to his right. He met Hawke's eyes and nodded towards Lyra's position, and they all prepared for the next wave.

Just then, they heard a blood-curdling scream, come from around the corner of where Merrill was. Hawke and Fenris looked at each other, fear in both of their eyes.

"Hold this position with Lyra," Hawke yelled as he sprinted towards Merrill. Fenris nodded and set his shoulders, bringing his attention to the tunnel leading to the back of the cave, where he heard the next wave of enemies approach.

Men upon men came rushing into the cavern, all of them armed with swords or maces. _The mages have all run out._ Which meant only close range combat.

Fenris was comfortable with short range and even hand to hand, but as more and more and more mercenaries flooded into the cavern, he felt his stomach drop in dread. In a minute, they could have him completely surrounded, and with so many swords, he could not defend against them all.

Then, an explosion sounded and a large flash encompassed the opening to the tunnel the enemies entered from, engulfing five or six of them in flames.

Relief flooded his veins, knowing that Lyra still had grenades left, and he searched around again, trying to find her. He was worried she had run out of arrows. _We've been fighting here for nigh on half an hour. We're all exhausted, and out of potions._

"Is Merrill okay?" She asked behind him, and he whipped around, completely surprised.

"Maker, Lyra," he said as they watched the enemies surround them. "Hawke is checking on her."

She nodded, and twirled her daggers. They fell into place, back to back, and the first of the swordsmen ran at them.

Block, deflect, attack. They fought off the men, each guarding their own sides, trusting the other to hold off the men behind them. He could feel her moves behind him; when she tensed and when she kicked, and they moved as one, complementing each other. Fenris held up his sword and blocked a heavy blow, and Lyra slipped under his arms and stabbed the man in the abdomen with her daggers. He swept his broadsword around them in a giant arc as she ducked, making all of them stumble back, and Lyra quickly jumped to each, leaving stab wounds that would bleed out quickly. They continue like this for minutes, working together, using the other's strengths, and leaning on the other when they needed support from the overwhelming number of enemies.

Fenris felt a sword's edge slice across his upper arm as he dispatched someone else, leaving a searing line of red and causing him to yell from the pain. Fear froze his veins when he realized he would be too slow to block him. The swordsman rose his sword for a final blow, and out of nowhere, Lyra jumped at him, and stabbed him in the chest with both of her daggers. He fell backwards, and she crouched on top of him and looked over her shoulder, meeting Fenris's eyes. Hers were full of fear, and absolute ferocity.

His widened when one of the two last men had backed away from them, holding a stab wound, and drew a bow and arrow and aimed at Lyra. There was no time and Fenris instinctively lunged in front of her just in time, feeling the arrow pierce the back of his left shoulder and run through him as he almost fell onto her.

She gasped and tried to hold up his weight, her small hands catching him as he struggled not to make them fall, and he forced himself to stay standing. Quicker than he could follow she yanked her two daggers from the dead man's chest and, in seconds, threw them each into the chests of the two remaining men. Their bodies collapsed into the ground, leaving them in silence.

They panted for a few seconds, their eyes flitting around and waiting for the next attempt on their lives, and after a moment, Lyra stumbled over to the bodies and grabbed her daggers. She returned to him, eyes blazing in worry, and Fenris leaned on her, and together, they left the mound of bodies in the center of the cavern as they retreated to the tunnel leading to their companions. Lyra clutched at him tightly as they moved, and he tried to calm his heart, never having felt so close to death before. And never having seen someone so important to him close to death before.

They rounded the corner, just as Hawke was helping Merrill up, her arms soaked in blood and shaking but the barrier finally down. As a group, they escaped the cave, all four needing to get out of that place of death.

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They were all sitting around the table in the Hanged Man like they always did after a mission. Varric was retelling their own story again, exaggerating more than usual, and Hawke and Isabela were arguing, just like usual. Lyra fidgeted, and looked at Fenris next to her. He met her eyes easily, and they held the same uncomfortable look she was feeling.

"Would you leave with me?" she asked, just loud enough for him to hear her. He nodded instantly.

"Gladly."

They got up from the table and said their goodbyes before quickly slipping from the pub and into the chilly night. Lyra breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh air and the silence. Fenris absently scratched at the place Anders had closed the arrow wound on his shoulder not long ago.

"Drinks?" He asked her as they came to the place where they would have to separate to their separate homes.

"Yes, thank you." she said quietly. They walked in silence to Hightown, neither of them knowing what to say, and both of them still processing what had happened in that cave earlier in the day. Fenris could still feel the stab of pain he felt in his heart when he thought Lyra would be shot. What was even more confusing, was that he remembered the pain of fear he had felt seeing her in danger more than he remembered actually getting shot himself. He kept glancing at her as they walked, as if to reassure himself that she was still next to him.

They finally arrived at the mansion, and they went in comfortably, both soaking in the calming atmosphere that had become a comfortable place for them. They tossed their armor pieces on the table near the door, and Lyra took her boots off, padding on the floor with less sound than usual, which meant she was completely silent. He grabbed a bottle of wine on the way to their usual spot near the fire, and they collapsed as one onto one of the couches.

"Gods, what a day," she murmured, closing her eyes and leaning back to rest her head against the cushion.

"What a day, indeed."

She opened her eyes and looked at him with her deep blue-greens, and he met her gaze, sitting next to her on the couch with the fire slowly warming them. She raised a hand and reached towards his shoulder, and stopped an inch before she touched him. He felt a shiver run down his back at how close she was. A few emotions flit across her expression, and he questioned her with his eyes.

"Thank you, Fenris." she whispered. She breathed in deeply and gave him a small smile, but her eyes remained serious, her tone intense. "You should not have, but thank you for taking that arrow for me."

He blinked at her. _Should not have?_ "I would do it again, right now if I had to."

He tensed when he fully registered what he had said, but did not take back his words, for he meant them, completely. Her brows upturned, and she reached for his hand, lying between them. She held his hand in hers, and she studied his fingers. He loved watching her face when she focused on something; her eyes narrowed slightly, she leaned closer. She brushed the tops of his fingers with hers, and then she ran her fingers over his knuckles. He spoke, breaking the silence with his baritone.

"You, saved me as well," he said quietly, stirring his fingers slightly in between hers. Her hands stilled, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her palm, and he could visibly see her shiver, sitting right next to him. His eyes flew up to meet hers, and she blinked at him, seemingly as perplexed at what she was feeling as he was.

"I just...didn't think," she murmured, the light from the fire flickering across her face and highlighting her eyes. He could see so much in them, like they were a direct portal to her soul. She held such unapologetic, vulnerable care in her eyes. Like she really _cared_ about him, and she had absolutely no shame in showing it.

He had never felt that from someone before, and her honesty gave him the room for confidence to show that he felt the same way, for her.

"I can't think at _all_ around you, quite honestly." he said bluntly. He stroked her palm with his thumb again, and her shoulders seemed to drop an inch, like she finally let go of some tension.

"I can't think either, not right now," she spoke softly, looking down at their intertwined hands. She kept her gaze lowered. "Fenris, I don't ever want to make you feel uncomfortable." She paused, and Fenris stared at her, convincing himself to not reach out and caress her cheek, or pull her into an embrace. "But I should be honest with you." She frowned, struggling, and his body screamed at him to comfort her somehow. "I, have come to care for you." She glanced up at him. "More than I care for just any friend."

He blinked as his heart swelled with such a pleasant feeling, and without thinking, he grasped one of her hands and brought it to his face gently, and he lightly placed a kiss on her knuckles. She froze as he did this, so he let go of her quickly. He averted his eyes, and began to panic, thinking he had misread her, and began to apologize.

"Forgive me, I don't really understand what's going on with me, but I can't think straight when you are near, and it's actually been quite maddening because you have only been a true friend and now that's suddenly not _enough_ , and I can't stand the thought of making _you_ uncomfortable, and I have absolutely no experience of what it means to feel like this and-"

She stopped him abruptly by leaning closer, holding his face, and kissing him. Fenris nearly jumped out of his skin from shock, but kept still and froze, completely caught off guard. Her hands held either side of his jaw gently, and her lips seemed so impossibly soft against his that he felt his stomach drop to the floor and his chest tighten painfully. She released him and averted her eyes, her cheeks blooming under the lines of her tattoos. He stared at her shocked as she leaned away from him and clasped her hands together in worry.

"Forgive me, I, I'm never so impulsive, forgive me," she murmured as she nervously tucked her hair behind her pointed ear and stood shakily from the couch. Fenris was finally recovering from the shock, and in a second, fully gave in to the whims and wants of his limbs.

His hand darted out and grasped her wrist, and after seeing a second of her surprised widened eyes, he stood and engulfed her in his arms, keeping her there. He felt her gasp, and then he lowered his face to hers and kissed her back, the muscles of his heart _unraveling_ from how she felt in his arms, and how she returned the kiss assuredly. She moved her lips against his and tilted her head, and he tightened his arms, completely overcome with these sensations caused by the smallest of her movements. He held her to him securely with a hand on her back and the other rested on the back of her neck, absolutely loving how soft her hair and skin was. _So_ _ **this**_ _is what I've been wanting all of this time, what I desire when she looks at me, what I think of when we're so close..._

She pulled away only slightly, and they both breathed from feeling slightly out of breath, but he kept her firmly in his arms. He met her eyes and blinked when he saw how _alive_ they were, like in the middle of battle. He realized his heart was hammering like he had been fighting the most intense battle, and his reflexes and senses were on high sensitivity.

She smiled at him then, all of the lines on her face melting away to reveal a pure happiness, and his breath caught at how utterly beautiful she was.

He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to as he kissed her once again, and he felt her whole frame soften in his arms as she kissed him back, and he held her tighter to him, never having really been able to appreciate how wonderful close human contact can feel with someone you trust. She clutched the cloth of his tunic on his back, and he froze when she parted her lips and lightly nipped his lower lip, causing a ripple of shock to jolt down his spine.

He tasted her lips, and he felt something in his lower core _move_ from how heated their kissing was. Time didn't exist when he was with her; they could have been standing there for a minute or an hour and he would not know. All he did know was that no one had ever made him feel so _aroused_ , so _eager_ to kiss her more, kiss her here, kiss her elsewhere...

She pulled away once again but instead of leaving his embrace, she rested her forehead against him, fitting her face into the crook of his neck. He felt her lips brush against his collarbone, and he shivered at the intimacy.

"I have to tell you something," she whispered to him, and he breathed and nodded, releasing his firm hold on her and giving her a foot of space. They sat back down on the couch, but this time facing each other, and keeping their hands intertwined. He stared at her and noticed her blushing cheeks, and she breathed in deeply, her eyes sobering, and her brow deepening into a frown. Something was weighing on her, and he stayed silent, allowing her the space to unload whatever it was she needed to. She sighed and set her shoulders, and he watched the determined strength she carries in her fighting stance come to her now, though she was only sitting on a couch. He felt the gravity of whatever she was thinking about, and he frowned, worried for her. In only a short moment, the vibe in the room changed from one so pleasant to one absolutely not.

"I have a son."

She looked over and stared at the fire, and as she said those words, he watched something die in her eyes.

He blinked and said the words over in his head, not quite believing them.

"He would be one and a half, come this month." she said the words monotonously, and he stared at her, never hearing that tone from her ever before. She finally met his eyes, and he looked into the gaze of someone who held an ocean of pain and regret, and he felt something stab his heart at the severity of her expression. He had absolutely no idea of what to say, so he simply waited. She continued, slowly.

"I am about to unload all of my past and burdens onto you, and I want you to know that you can ask me to stop or leave at any time." She stared at him and waited for him to nod in understanding. "I told you I played a part in the war against the Blight in Ferelden, but I kept many things hidden."

She stared into the fire, and he watched her mind leave this room.

"You know I grew up in a clan, in the middle of a dense forest. One day my friend Hamlen and I were hunting, shortly after I had earned my place as a hunter among the clan." She glanced at him, and quickly glanced away. He sensed an enormous amount of shame coming from her then, but only for a second, since she immediately covered it up. He blinked in confusion but she continued. "We came across old ruins, and that was where I met my first darkspawn, and when I watched my first death of a friend."

She sighed heavily. "That was when I met Duncan, and traveled with him to Ostagar to fight in my first war. I met Alistair, and he assisted in my joining." She glanced at him. "My joining, to become a Grey Warden."

He stared at her. She had so much pain in her expression, so much history, she looked much older than her early twenties.

"I traveled with him and other companions across Ferelden, visiting all the races and all the factions, building an army to defend the people against the Blight. That year felt longer than many lifetimes. Every day was survival; battling for my life and the lives of everyone I loved, and everyone else in the world. When I wasn't killing, I was mediating politicians with black souls so dark and selfish it was hard to continue fighting for them."

She stared into the fire, and her hardened eyes began to glisten.

"I wasn't just companions with Alistair." She closed her eyes painfully. "He helped shed some light in a completely dark life, and he was very important to me. So much so that, when we found out that in order to end a Blight, one of us had to sacrifice ourselves to kill the archdemon, I vowed to give my life in so he could serve Ferelden as King."

Her tears broke then, streaming down her cheeks.

"But our friend, a witch of the wilds offered us another way. A way where neither of us would have to give our lives to end the Blight. A way that required me… to kill the archdemon, while carrying a child. His child."

She began to shake and she swallowed down her sobs.

"I didn't want to, I refused at first, but Alistair begged me to, so that we both might live. We performed an ancient ritual known to the witch, one I wish to never speak of again. When I killed the archdemon with the final blow, I _felt_ its essence try and take me as its vessel. But it was redirected… to the life blooming in my stomach."

Fenris exhaled and took a deep breath in when he realized he had been holding it. He had never heard of such things before.

"The archdemon was killed, finally, through my unborn son, and he now holds the soul of an Old God." Her tears became so thick, she blinked often to try and focus on him. "I stayed with Alistair during the pregnancy, but in secret. The human nobles who control Ferelden explained to me the danger of the King having an elven consort with a half-elven bastard child." He watched anger enter her distraught face. "While neither I nor the King have shame in our half-elven child, the country is not ready for that. Ferelden has progressed much with the alliances formed, but they were formed out of necessity, and not formed with understanding. The people would never accept me, a Dalish elf, as a leader, and I would have only been a detriment to Alistair's reign and the health of the nation if I had stayed."

She bowed her head and hugged herself tightly. "And so I am banished, after having grown up in Ferelden, after fighting and sacrificing everything I have for Ferelden, I am banished from there for _political_ reasons. And I am banished from ever seeing my own son."

Her tears fell freely, but her face was complete defeat. Fenris had never seen nor heard anything like this before, so they stayed in silence for a few minutes for him to process. The only sounds were the fire crackling and her soft sobs, and he finally broke the silence.

"This whole time… this whole time, you've lived in this punishing city, you've fought for your survival and the survival of others, this whole time we've known you, and _you_ are the legendary Hero of Ferelden?"

She just nodded, not meeting his eyes. He had never seen her show such shame before. She was withering like a dying flower, the strength and positivity she was known for just, gone. She breathed in deeply, her breath shaky, and she finally met his eyes. Her expression, she looked like she was expecting him to be angry with her, or disgusted. But he was only very confused, and very worried.

"You, didn't tell us, because…?"

She bowed her head and a tone of self disgust colored her speech. "I tell myself it's because of my loyalty to Ferelden. To spread the truth that the Hero was a female _elf_ who bore the King a bastard child would only make his rule harder, and Ferelden _needs_ a strong leader to point them in the right direction after the Blight tossed all sense of stability from the country." She paused. "But in all honesty, I also wanted a fresh start." She looked at him. "I don't want to be known as the Hero who was only good for giving the King a bastard and then disappearing to appease the humans."

She looked away then, disgust plain on her face. Fenris just stared. Many emotions passed through him; disbelief, betrayal, concern.

"Why tell me now? And who else knows?"

"No one else knows." She stared into the fire. "But I plan to tell them now, what with the events in Kirkwall escalating and the rest of the world turning their eyes here." She met his eyes, hers red from crying. "And you deserve to know. Even if this costs me your friendship and your trust, it was wrong of me to withhold so much of my past." She looked down, her fists clenching at her sides. "And there are things I can never tell you, still."

Fenris knew as much; Anders had already explained the secrets of the Grey Wardens. Then it hit him. His voice dropped an octave, his tone serious.

"Wait, if you're a… Anders said Grey Wardens don't live long…"

Lyra nodded absently. "Yes. I will probably hear my calling within the next decade and a half, since I have had extreme exposure to darkspawn, throughout the war. This fate also befalls the King."

That stumped him. He felt a very cold feeling enter his chest. _She only has a decade to live?!_ "You are going to die, so soon?"

She looked up at him. "Yes, sooner than most. A Blight cannot end, without sacrifice. But in all honesty, we could die every day with our current lifestyles," she added, but he began to panic at the thought that she would never have a chance to grow old. Never have the chance to watch her children grow to be adults.

Hisgut twisted in pain, his fists clenched in anger, his vision blurred from the thought of all she has gone through. The tightness he felt in his chest was like nothing he'd felt before; anger flared up from the pain like a frantic flame, and he did nothing to quench it.

"You don't think that I should have known you are going to leave this world so soon? You didn't think to tell me, that you were… that you had… that you have a…" he felt his head swirl with fear. "How could you let me…" _How could you let me have so much hope?_

"I am so sorry." she whispered shakily, her eyes welling up again. "I was wrong, Fenris. I lied to you, and to everyone here I love."

He hated how beautiful she looked. He hated how much pain he was feeling in his chest from hearing _her_ pain. He felt the anger that lived deep inside of him stir faster, and for the first time in a long time, he really let it.

"Did you even think about how everyone loves _you_? How everyone trusts you, hopes for you, thinks you are here for _them_?!" he couldn't stop. His vision was red with pain and fear. She silently cried and only listened to him. He couldn't _take it_.

"You can't just enter my life and make me _feel_ , just to tell me… you… you don't have much time to live," he stopped, the anger subsiding as he watched her shake. Her face was stoic, yet her eyes streamed tears and her expression held so much regret he realized, she was probably thinking things much worse than he was saying to her. She waited for him to say more, but he hadn't the heart to. She had never looked so completely defenseless, so completely in defeat, and he couldn't add to it.

"I wronged everyone, for hiding my past. But I wronged you, more than the others." she whispered. He clenched his hands, anger turning to frustration. _She had a life, in Ferelden. An important life, a life of a hero. She had a lover, in the human King. She had a_ _ **son**_ _._

"I guess… I just need some time," he murmured, averting his eyes and lowering his voice. He saw her nod in his peripheral vision, and wipe away her fresh tears. She stood from the couch then, and made to leave. He felt his chest tighten as she left silently, but he didn't say anything. He reached for the bottle they had brought, and downed it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! Thank you for reading if you've stayed with me so far, I really appreciate it! This chapter is rated M for adult reasons, so beware! [Enjoy!]**

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"Okay, Robin. I am _physically_ feeling pain, watching you two. Please, for the love of the Maker, tell me what's going on," Varric asked her, sitting next to her at the bar in the Hanged Man. She bowed her head and drank from her tankard, and he could visibly see the tension in her shoulders. Varric had noticed the coldness between her and Fenris, since it was an extreme contrast to their usual warmth.

"I told him, Varric." She glanced over at him, expecting a reaction. He blinked for a second as he understood.

"You… you _what_?!" he stood from the bar. "You told him?! Your _past?!_ " he looked hurt. "Before old Varric?"

She smiled sadly and placed a hand on his shoulder. She looked like she had just come from a day long battle; her shoulders slumped, her face pale. "Don't worry. You're next."

Her smile died as she said this, and Varric sobered. "Yeah, okay. Let's go to the room in the back."

They weaved in between drunken bodies and spills of ale, and climbed the stairs to the private room Varric stayed in. He let her in, and he offered her a seat at the table, near the fire.

"Give me one second," he murmured as he grabbed a pen and parchment. Lyra rolled her eyes at him, and he winked at her.

"How do you know I'm not about to tell you the most anti-climatic story known to man?"

"Oh my dear, I can smell a good story a mile away."

They settled after Varric had set a fire, and he gave her his full attention. She began to fidget from nerves, which was strange; she felt very comfortable around the kind dwarf.

"Just start anywhere," he suggested, and she nodded.

She cleared her throat. "Alright, it all begins in a dense forest, in a small Dalish clan…"

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"That's the last question, Varric, I will _not_ tell you anything about the King's and my relationship, no matter how many times you ask," she frowned at him, but he was not about to give up. She had seen him excited before, but he was absolutely shining with enthusiasm at her story. He had asked so many questions for details she didn't think important that it had taken her two full hours to relay what she had taken just a few minutes to tell Fenris.

"Alright alright, fine, but just, your story is so _romantic_ , full of heroes and kings and maidens and dragons, you don't realize what a great…" he stopped when he saw her expression. She smiled sadly, but it did not reach her eyes.

"I understand, Varric. It's just really painful to talk about it."

He deflated and reached across the table to hold one of her hands. She met his eyes with her tired ones. "Forgive me, Lyra. I've been insensitive. I can get carried away." He rubbed her hand comfortingly. She smiled at him.

"Nothing to forgive. Thank you for hearing me out. I am sorry it took me so long to find the balls to own up to my past."

Varric shook his head. "Hell, the Hero has had to have major balls to deal with half the shit that was thrown your way. Like, _darkspawn_. The dwarfs can't even handle _that_ shit."

Lyra chuckled and waved his words away, smiling at him. "Please, I did what any lovesick fighter would have done to survive."

Varric's eyes widened and he furiously scribbled her quote down, and she laughed loudly.

"Gods, I'm going to see this tattooed on your ass someday, won't I."

"I'd sooner get your _face_ tattooed on my ass, but, thank you, though, for your permission."

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Fenris stared at the door she and the dwarf had entered more than two hours ago. _What are they_ _ **doing**_ _. Is she telling him?_

He downed the rest of his drink impatiently, ignoring whatever Hawke and Anders were talking about next to him. He started when he heard her name, however, and turned his attention to his companions.

"Oh, finally! It takes mentioning her to get your attention," Anders remarked, and Fenris glared at him.

"What do you want."

Hawke drank from his tankard, his blues peering at him curiously. "Your brooding is stronger than your usual, Fenris. We're just worried."

"Leave me be. It is nothing that concerns you." he said, harsher than he meant. Anders got up, eyes rolling.

"Gladly. I need another drink from your gloom and doom complex."

Fenris growled under his breath as the mage left them, and Hawke sighed and met his eyes. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come now, Fenris, what happened between you and Lyra?"

Fenris sighed and slumped, utterly exhausted from the last two days he has spent mad at her. _Talking about it to Hawke won't hurt. There's no one else I can really talk to, anyways._

"She is just, more than we thought." he looked away, knowing he couldn't tell Hawke specifics. He seemed to sense that, though.

"Is she in danger? Or are any of us in danger from her?" Hawke asked seriously. Fenris met his eyes, confused.

"No." He frowned. "No, she is not a danger to us, nor to anyone who doesn't deserve it, but that's not the point." He scratched his head. "She just kept so much from me- from us," he said lamely, looking away.

"Have you told her all of _your_ darkest secrets?" Hawke asked, interested. Fenris looked at him. _She doesn't know about the shadow warriors._

"I… no."

He paused, and Hawke just smiled at him. Fenris shook his head, and frowned.

"But she… the things she…" he looked away. "Forget it."

"I may not know what she said, but I don't believe she kept her past from us from bad intent." Hawke placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Fenris glanced at him. "All of us here, we are all here because we ran away from _something_. We are all just trying to survive to the next day, at the end of the day."

Fenris sighed heavily and felt a huge chunk of anger leave his system. He was left feeling empty.

"Damn you, Hawke." he met his eyes. He felt a smile tug at his lips. "Always making us feel like squabbling children."

"You all _are_ squabbling children," Hawke said, and Fenris elbowed him. Just then, Varric and Lyra came stumbling out of the room, both of them chuckling. Lyra play slapped the dwarf's shoulder, and Varric laughed heartily. Fenris felt cold seeing her, and as he was looking at her, she glanced up and met his gaze. They both froze, and she broke the contact first, looking down and following Varric to the bar.

"When will she speak with me," he murmured to himself, and hadn't expected Hawke to respond when he did.

"How did your last conversation end?"

"I told her…" he sighed. "I told her I needed time to process everything." he glared at Hawke. "Yes, I realize that means _I_ need to talk to her."

Hawke only chuckled and drank his ale.

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Fenris waited in the cold outside Hawke's mansion, pacing back and forth in front of the main door to keep warm. He knew she was in there talking with him, telling him her history. She was bound to come out sometime, and he was exhausted from his time away from her.

He was scowling at the snow that had just started falling when the door opened abruptly, the light from behind her silhouette bright and warm from inside the Hawke household. Lyra was waving behind her, and as she turned, her smile faded when she saw him. He felt his chest tighten as she averted her eyes, her hands coming together to wring themselves nervously.

"I… Hawke is about to leave to meet up with Aveline, if you're looking for him," she said quietly.

"I'm looking for you." she met his eyes, and he saw such cautious hope in them. "Can we try having that drink again?"

She seemed to relax, and she nodded. They turned to head towards Danarius's mansion, not far away in Hightown.

She covered her eyes with her hood to block the oncoming snow, and they walked quickly to get out of the cold. They reached his house and, as before, shed their armor and hung their things to dry. Fenris grabbed a bottle, Lyra took off her boots, and they found their way to the couch, like always. Fenris busied himself by starting the fire, unsure why his nerves were so anxious. He heard Lyra open the bottle behind him.

He stayed, crouched by the fire, his back facing her, and he sighed and closed his eyes.

"It was wrong of me to react that way."

He was met with silence, before she responded quietly.

"It was not. It is understandable for you to be angry with me."

He turned around and met her eyes. "I don't have the energy to do that. Nor the strength." He stood and joined her on the couch. It already felt unbelievably better to be near her. "And you don't deserve that. I should not be angry, especially when…" he looked away. "I haven't told you everything about me, either."

He saw her hand twitch in his peripheral vision. He met her eyes, squarely. "There have been things I've done, that I am ashamed of. And I haven't told you about them, yet. So it was unfair of me to be angry with you for doing what I haven't been strong enough to do."

Her brows upturned, and he had to look away from how beautiful her eyes were. He felt the lightest touch on his arm, and he looked at her fingers lighting on his forearm. He grasped her hand in his, and felt something fall into place within his chest as they touched. He breathed deeply, preparing himself to talk about a time in his life that caused him nightmares, to this day.

"Being a slave… when I escaped Danarius, I may have escaped the _lifestyle_ of a slave, but it took more to escape the _mentality_." he scowled. He paused for a few moments, gathering his thoughts, and trying to form words. He frowned, and Lyra spoke.

"I do not want you to feel obligated to tell me something you do not wish to speak of, Fenris," she said, squeezing his hand. "

"I do not feel obligated. I...want to talk about it. Admit it. I owe them that much…" he met her eyes, feeling his soften from focusing on how the light from the fire flickered on her face.

She nodded and waited. She absently rubbed the top of his hand with her thumb, and he took comfort in the touch. He resumed.

"When I escaped, I took refuge with a group of shadow warriors, who fed me and protected me. They became my first friends, my first family." He closed his eyes. "Danarius eventually found me, like always. But while I had thought I was free of him, that he had no control over me… I was wrong. Very wrong."

He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and bowing his head. "He took one look at me, and told me to murder them. Slaughter them. My precious friends, those who fought to protect me, and I didn't see _anything_ , just my order, my next task to complete for my _master."_

Fenris spit to the side, then took the bottle Lyra offered him. He took a few gulps, then resumed his hunched position. He whispered his confession.

"I… slaughtered them. Like animals. Because he told me to. Because I'm still nothing more than a controlled slave."

Silence, as he stared into the bottle and watched the wine ripple from his trembling hands. He didn't want to look at Lyra, he feared what he might find; her barely concealing a look of disgust, or fear of him. He knew she would never outrightly show her disapproval, but he still feared it, more than he feared an oncoming arrow, or oncoming fireball.

"Have you come any closer to finding him?" she asked quietly.

"No." he sighed, and glanced at her. She was staring at the fire, lost in thought. "Though, who knows what I'll do when he finds me. Who knows what he'll try."

She met his eyes, but he saw none of the emotions he feared he would see in her. She only looked thoughtful. "You're already a different person than the last time he saw you. Don't think you haven't changed."

"Am I? I thought I was free then. I think I'm free now. But how will I ever know?"

Lyra nodded, showing she heard him. She stared off into the fire, reliving something. "The ghosts that haunt us…we may never know, fully."

"He is no ghost," he scowled, frustration building like it does whenever he thinks about that man still walking, breathing, _living_.

He felt the lightest touch on his arm, and he sighed before looking at her.

"This may be naive, but I don't think taking back the control from him has anything to do with him. It can be done whether he dies the worst death, or he lives forever."

"How can it not have anything to do with him?" Fenris's brows came together, confused. "He can't control me if he's rotting in the ground."

She frowned as well, thinking, trying to form words to voice her thoughts. He looked between her eyes and shook his head, clenching his hands into fists to brace himself for the pain this topic brought him. He growled, his voice low, low enough to hide the strain.

"He _needs_ to die. _He's_ the one who ran me into the ground. He's the one who made me believe I'm worth nothing."

He felt Lyra's gaze, waiting for him to look at her, and when he finally did, he met eyes that held his own so gently, like one would look upon a suffering loved one. Her eyes were soft and honest, and her voice was low, though hardened and firm, with conviction. "Well, _you_ made me believe you are worth _everything_." she looked between his eyes, willing him to hear her. " _You_ did that, Fenris; changed my life, gave me happiness, gave me hope. You can do the same for yourself, without him."

Fenris stared at her, his brows drawn together, his confusion colored with the very warm feeling he felt in the center of his chest from her compliment.

"You don't mean that." he said quietly and looked away, suddenly humble. The tips of his ears burned, his fingers tingled. Her voice was low as a whisper when she responded.

"I do."

He kept his eyes averted, but he looked up when he felt her gently take the bottle of wine from him. He watched her drink from it, and he felt the tension he felt from telling his story melt away from the warmth in his chest as he looked at her. She seemed to relax more than she had ever for the last few days, and he felt very happy that being with her made her feel better as well.

A stand of her hair reflected the light from the fire; the orange wave glinting brightly as she turned her face, her cheekbones blushed slightly from the heat, or the wine, or whatever else was also making _him_ fluster. Her blue-greens peered over at him from behind the veil of red; the eyes curious and cautious, but ever so deep, like what he imagined the fathomless deep sea would look like. His hand twitched and reached out of its own accord, drifting over her own hand holding the wine bottle. Her deep seas watched him closely as he took the wine from her, and it felt like the breath was taken from his lungs when he removed his hand from hers.

Tearing his eyes away he drank heavily from the bottle, finishing the last quarter in a few gulps, before turning and setting down the bottle on the ground and turning back to her. He cleared his throat, his nerves rising in fear, his voice focused so it wouldn't shake.

"Lyra. What I feel for you…" he breathed in, looking back between her blue-greens. "What I feel for you only grows stronger by the week. By the day, by the hour, by the _minute_ …"

He reached out and grasped her hand, her fingers easily yielding to his own. He looked down at them, running his thumb over her knuckles, and he shook his head, chest feeling like it was pressurized. _Lyra, I want_ …

She intertwined their fingers, and when he glanced up he saw her staring down at them as well. Her fingertips brushed over his skin so lightly, causing shivers to run through to his chest. His gaze fell along her features, highlighted by the fire; her jawline, where he had held her face, her fingers, that had buried themselves in his hair, her eyes that finally rose to meet his, feeling his gaze on her.

He raised a hand and reached out to her cheek, the feeling of her skin shocking his sensitive system, her eyes looking brighter from the wine setting in. She turned her face towards his hand then, and kissed his palm, shooting a shock of pleasure down through to his toes and flooding his veins with heat.

Fenris leaned in and caught her lips quickly, kissing her before he would lose the nerve.

She gasped against his lips, and he moved his hands to the sides of her neck, feeling the edges of her jawline with his thumbs. He felt his stomach drop from how soft her lips were, how close they were on his couch. She kissed him back after a second, and she clutched the front of his tunic with her fingers, pulling him closer. His arms just naturally travelled to her back, embracing her, needing to feel more of her solid form. He knew her body very well by now, after fighting alongside her and watching how she moves. Her frame was taller than most elves, and every inch of her was covered in used muscle from her many years of fighting experience and rough travel. But the way her hands felt him, the way her lips caressed his; her affections were so soft and her body felt so malleable under his hands that he just couldn't believe...

He felt his body heat up from arousal; everything about her allured him. He broke their kiss by traveling his lips down to her jaw, along to under her ear, and he felt her body shiver along his. Her hands weaved through his hair, and massaged his scalp, her fingers searching for more, wanting more. Of what, he wasn't quite sure; but he knew, he wanted it too.

"Fenris…" she whispered breathily, and he felt his stomach flutter to pieces from hearing her voice saying _his name_ , so warmly, so sensually…

Just then her hands turned from careful to decisive. They moved from caressing his neck to pushing against his chest, breaking their contact. She pushed them to a more horizontal position on the couch, leaning against him and kissing him fervently. It shocked his senses to feel her weight upon his chest, and he ran his hands up her back, running along her perfect curves and feeling his veins pulse from how heated he felt.

He had never felt so _alive_ , so present in the moment as he did when he was with her. Nothing else existed; not his past, not the future, not Kirkwall, not anything, just this incredible person causing him to feel sensations he hadn't thought possible. His hands pressed her closer to him, his legs shifted, his body moved against hers, needing to feel _friction_ , needing to feel every part of her.

His hands slipped under her shirt of their own will, feeling the smoothness of her lower back. She froze slightly from the skin contact, and he carefully ran a finger along her spine until he reached her breast band. She breathed in against his lips, but he kissed her, astonished that her small but sweet reactions just fueled him further and added to his arousal. In their kissing she lightly nipped his bottom lip, the sharpness electrifying, and his hands turned from cautious exploring to firmly holding her to him, his fingers gripping the curves of her waist.

Then, she shifted slightly on top of him, their bodies writhing, and he froze when she pressed her thigh against his painfully-sensitive hardened member under his trousers. He exhaled sharply and felt the heat in his limbs double instantly, and his hands gripped her more tightly than he meant to. She kissed him, and she shifted against him again, and he moaned into their kiss as his lower regions felt like electric currents were jolting through him, and without understanding what he was doing, pushed them until they were sitting up. He broke their kiss and he stood from the couch, her hands still gripping his shirt to prevent him from moving away. He met her eyes and nearly let his mouth fall open in awe when he saw them; shining so bright blue-green with a well of energy and pure _desire_. He found his voice as they both panted.

"This couch is too fucking small," he growled, bending down and grabbing her waist. He pulled her up and swept her off her feet, and she clutched at him as he carried her out of the grand hall and into the closest hallway.

She kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone as he carried her to the closest bedroom, his limbs vibrating with pent up energy, all of his senses alert. He kicked the door in and strode into the room, and Lyra climbed from his arms and immediately turned to him. Her eyes shone intensity as she roughly gripped his shirt and pulled it from him, and he gladly obliged. When it was thrown to the floor he bent and kissed her fiercely, and she gasped against his lips as he pushed her back to the edge of the bed, causing her to stumble backwards. The backs of her calves hit the edge of the mattress and her knees buckled, causing her to fall back onto the covers. He nearly lost all control at the sight of her lying sprawled in front of him, her cheeks blushing, her hair a mess, her bright eyes imploring him to _get over here_.

He then stopped, dead in his tracks as she lifted her own hand to the edge of her shirt. She slowly, so, so slowly lifted the edge and revealed her stomach, then her full breast band, then her collarbone and shoulders as she slipped the shirt off. He stood, transfixed, breathing heavily as she began to untie her breast band.

"You're going to have to help me with this," she said lowly, out of breath, her eyes piercing his, and he shook himself, quickly obeying. He reached towards her cautiously, slightly unsure now that they had progressed their intimacy and he had no further experience to be guided from. She leaned up and kissed him, wiping away all shreds of insecurity he had and sending his mind back to the red haze of desire he felt for her. All hesitancy disappeared and his hands found her curves naturally, and without him thinking they removed her binding and his hands were suddenly holding such unbelievable softness he felt his knees go weak. He ran his thumbs over her hardened nipples, and she shuddered directly under his hands, her mouth opening and giving him better access to kiss her deeply. His mind registered such a reaction from her, and he rubbed her nipples, making her arc into his hands and pressing her hips against his, causing his hardened member to throb tightly against his pants.

At that pressure, something in him _snapped_. He kissed her, hard, pushing her on her back, and pressing her into the sheets with his body. His insides writhed from feeling her breasts against his bare chest and his hands felt along her waist down to her hips, resting along the edge of her pants. His fingers slipped in between the rim of her pants and her skin, and she kissed him passionately, her hips shifting underneath his so her knees rose on either side of his hips. He grinded against her most intimate area involuntarily, and she moaned into their kiss, her hands on his back turning to claws and his sensitive hardness throbbing for more friction. Her nails scraped him slightly, the pain shocking pleasure through his limbs, and he pulled on the edge of her pants, needing to feel her skin instead of leather.

She helped him slip her pants from her legs, and he stared dumbly at the gorgeous sight of most of her skin bare to him, seeing how her vallaslin tattoos stretched across her limbs and ran along her muscles and curves, accentuating her natural frame. He felt her smaller fingers run down his chest and down his abdomen, causing shivers to spread along his body, and she began to undo the bindings of his pants. They got him out of them as well, and his stomach melted from the feeling of their _legs_ touching.

He kissed her and she kissed him, and the heat between became more _raw_ as they explored each other. His hands felt her breasts, her waist, her hips, her thighs, and the _heat_ between her legs, _Maker_ the heat was _wet_ , he pressed his fingers into her through her small clothes and she stiffened as she inhaled, and he panted from feeling one of her legs hooking around his waist and aligning them so naturally.

He continued to prod and massage her, and she contorted, her hands gripping his shoulders and her eyes wide from adrenaline. She ran a hand down his abdomen and her fingers brushed the taut fabric over his length. He froze this time, and he nearly groaned as she slipped her fingers into his small cloth and- _oh Maker_ \- wrapped her fingers around him. He kissed her, hard, and they continued to feel each other, making what he had thought was extreme pressure in his body seem like absolutely nothing compared to the shock waves she was causing to flood through him.

In what seemed like agonizing minutes, they finally got the rest of their clothing off and an air of severity entered the room. Fenris had never felt so completely vulnerable, so completely intimate with someone else before, and the fact that it was Lyra just seemed so _right_ , like of _course_ she is making him feel such pleasure. As she has brought so much happiness to his world already, it only made natural sense that they were here right now, together, moving in unison like an expressive dance, setting off explosions in the other's mind.

Her kisses became less aggressive, and she held his face as he leaned over her, making him feel very much welcomed in such a physical position of power on top of her. He panted, and his eyebrows upturned as he looked down on such a beautiful face, such a beautiful person, with her eyes gently smiling at him while also _asking_ something from him, _needing_ something from him. The same need he was feeling so deeply in his core, the need to not just connect with her emotionally like they have been these last months, but connect with her physically. His needs guided him as he lowered himself, gently closing the space between their bodies so their lips met, their chests touched, their legs brushed each other and their hips aligned. He kissed her slowly as he fell into place, and without him understanding the pure bliss he was about to feel, connected their most intimate areas.

His entire body went rigid as they both gasped, and he exhaled slowly, not understanding how someone could make him feel such things. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she kissed him as he fell from the high. Her movement caused their connected parts to shift, and he was assaulted with another wave of pleasure, another high. She kissed him as he shifted himself, and he gripped the sheets on either side of her as he moved, pulling away slightly to then push back into, over and over, enduring the waves of pleasure jolting through his entire body. She moaned against his lips, the sound so absolutely delicious, and he opened his eyes from their shut position to behold a sight that shocked him enough to make him almost stop moving.

Her eyes were clenched shut, her face contorted in pleasure, her mouth slightly open as she panted. He pushed into her a little harder, hitting against her hips, and her mouth fell open, her whole body seizing in the debilitating pleasure he was also feeling. The sight of her so openly enjoying what he was doing gave him a wave of confidence, and he released some of his pent up energy, slamming into her harder than before. They both gasped and she gripped his shoulders while he gripped the sheets tightly, every inch of his body on fire and he did it again, and again, and soon he started a rhythm, making the waves of pleasure turn into one powerful sensation that began to build up in his core.

Her hands traveled up to his neck and then weaved into his hair, making the base of his spine tingle, and she opened her eyes to meet his, already staring at her. Her eyes were so widened and held that color of adrenaline, and she smiled at him, dazzling him with her beauty, as he continued to pound into her before she leaned up to meet him. She kissed him as he continued to send them both through waves of pleasure, and he felt a blanket of perfect pressure wrap around his insides from how astonishing the person in his arms was.

She moaned and clutched him tighter, keeping herself suspended so that the angle they had let him in deep, and she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, the feel of her hair under his jaw and her lips on his collarbone causing him to push faster, faster, and the pressure in him to build up painfully so. He moaned and clenched his eyes shut when he felt her teeth lightly scrape his skin, and pressed her into the mattress over and over again, lowering himself to his elbows so their chests slid along each other.

Her lips found his, and her nails ran over his tensed back muscles, the sharp sensation making him worry his pent up pressure would not be able to hold for any longer. Just then she writhed under him, her entire body tensing next to his, and she gasped loudly and he felt her clench around him in waves. She clutched at him and he watched such pure absolution on her expression as she was released from the pressure she was under, and his eyes widened from what that did to him.

The pressurized bottle inside him burst. His entire body spasmed in ecstasy, the blessed feeling of _release_ overcame him and he clutched her tightly in his arms as he felt wave after wave of euphoria crash through his senses. He felt her soothing hands rub his arms and back, and he felt all of his energy seep into her, leaving him utterly exhausted. He collapsed on top of her, his head lying on the pillow next to her and his face buried in her hair, worried he would be heavy but currently unable to move. They breathed heavily, and she ran her fingers through his hair, acting as a balm to his overheated and overworked body. He quieted, and heard her smile through her voice.

"You are incredible, Fenris," she whispered. He felt his mouth form a smile and he closed his eyes, lying against this person he trusted fully. He raised his head a few inches so he could meet her smiling eyes. He couldn't think of any words that could properly explain what he was feeling, so he simply leaned down and kissed her gently. He whispered back, against her lips.

"You are _everything_."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and he shifted to lie next to her, both of them keeping the other in their arms. She fit against him so comfortably, with most of his skin in contact with hers, and they shared their warmth from their passion as their heartbeats slowed and their adrenaline faded.

Lyra reached her fingers up and lightly touched his face, and he watched her eyes as they traveled around his face with her fingers, caressing him with so much care. He loved how she touched him, like he was something to be cared for, like he was more than just a rough warrior. No one had held him with much regard, and he turned his face, catching one of her hands with a kiss, as she had. She smiled, all the lines on her face melted. She was so beautiful when she looked content, and it made him feel proud to know that he helped in satisfying her.

He watched her, and realized something. Something that shocked him.

"I've never really trusted anyone or anything before. It feels...strange. To have someone know, everything there is to know about me."

Her brows upturned, but then he watched her eyes become slightly guarded, and she closed her eyes from him.

"I keep a few secrets." she opened her eyes and looked at him, worried. "But these secrets have nothing to do with how much you matter to me."

He felt the warmth from her words, but he questioned her with his eyes. "What secrets must you keep?"

She nodded and seemed to sink into herself. "Imperfect burdens I must endure, as gifts from my past."

She said no more but he didn't press, seeing how disturbed even mentioning them made her. She seemed to shake herself, and met his eyes honestly.

"These are just secrets I must keep from the world, for the rest of my life. It is my hope that they fade, from even my own memory. They serve no purpose other than to create insecurity and shame."

He blinked at her and dropped it, slightly unsure now. But she washed his worries away by snuggling closer to him and kissing his shoulder, making him pull her into his embrace.

"I haven't felt this safe in years," she murmured, looking like she could fall asleep. Fenris yawned, and pulled her the closest he could.

"I've never felt this safe."


	6. Chapter 6

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Two spiders, the sizes of horses, crawled down the wall of the cave in haste, their shadows flickering from the torchlight and their jittering sounds clicking sharply that echoed off the walls. Lyra pulled back another arrow and released it, piercing one of the beasts through the head and causing it to fall abruptly to the ground below, its outer carapace cracking from the impact with the stone. The other reached the ground next to its fallen brother, and Lyra panted as she quickly holstered her bow and unsheathed her daggers.

The spider lunged at her with a snarl and hiss, and she dodged to the side out of instinct, her thighs tightening as she stopped her momentum with a crouch before springing towards the spider's side. She brought her daggers down together, stabbing the spider in the side of its abdomen, killing it quickly before it had the chance to turn on her.

"Nice one, Robin!" Isabela yelled to her side, and Lyra glanced over with a smile to see the other rogue kill another spider in a similar fashion, the pirate's curved daggers dripping with the beast's remains.

"Nice yourself, love," Lyra teased lightly, and Isabela sauntered over to her with a grin, resting one of her daggers on her hip.

"Look at us, the deadly dueling angels! No wonder the boys take us with them," she winked at Lyra, and Lyra nudged her and smiled widely. Hawke and Fenris joined up, broadswords dripping. Hawke's blues flashed over Lyra before hesitantly meeting Isabela's.

"You both okay?" he asked awkwardly, and Lyra blinked as Isabela chuckled loudly.

"We're rightly swell, Hawke," she saluted him before turning to Lyra and leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Well, at least _your_ bloke knows some good tits when he sees 'em, yeah?"

She giggled to herself as she walked down the cave, and Lyra scratched her head before looking sideways to their leader. Hawke was focused on wiping his sword, his shoulders tensed. He was unusually quiet, and Lyra wondered. _Something happened in their relationship?_

She heard the soft steps of her barefooted companion behind her, and she looked behind her to meet the greens of her fellow elf. He gave her a half smile and slid his hand over her lower back, lightly squeezing her hip. She smiled at him before catching Hawke eyeing them.

Hawke smiled from seeing them, from Fenris so openly showing affection, but Lyra could see it not completely reach his eyes. _I will ask him later, if he would like to talk about it; whatever happened between him and Isabela. I can see it weighing on him._

He seemed to mentally shake himself before summoning his smile back, the light entering his eyes again. "Cave, cleared. Thank you all for helping me with this mine. The profit's nice, the spiders aren't."

He set off with renewed energy in his step, and the other three followed behind, exiting the cave and shielding their eyes from the sun.

"Drinks… drinks after all that. Little Robin?" Isabela started before they all stopped in their tracks, seeing a familiar blond mage running up the many steps that led to the mine. Anders was huffing, sprinting up the steps, sweat dripping and hair disheveled. Hawke immediately jogged down the steps to meet him.

"Anders?" he started, and the mage hunched over when they all reached each other, resting hands on his knees to catch his breath. He got out his message between pants.

"Hawke… it's Bethany… I thought she was safe in the clinic, I thought… I thought we were _all_ safe-"

"Bethany?" Hawke stopped him, tone dead serious. Lyra looked at their leader with wide eyes, never having seen him this intense before. Anders straightened up, his brows knitted together in worry, his face flushed from running all the way from Kirkwall.

"Someone tipped off the Templars. We need to get back."

Hawke breathed in and nodded, taking out a stamina potion from his belt and giving it to Anders in one hand, squeezing his shoulder in thanks with the other. He looked over at the three other companions but Isabela beat him to words.

"I'm with you, sweet Bethany…"

Lyra nodded and met Hawke's gaze firmly. "We must hurry."

Fenris nodded silently, and the five turned and made off down the steps, starting at a jog and following Hawke's increasing speed. As they ran, thoughts flew through Lyra's mind, watching the stress build in her friend's shoulders. _Bethany, no… the Circle here, she can't… Hawke must be distraught in worry…_

The five sprinted without slowing, turning a bend into the outskirts of Kirkwall, and suddenly Lyra felt an instinctual fear stab her gut. Her eyes flew around them, seeing the hills on either side and, the rocks where behind could be a perfect ambush-

"Up above!" Lyra shouted, seeing a robed man stand up from the bushes, holding a staff and summoning a ball of fire. Her friends stopped abruptly and scattered, away from the spot that the fireball streamed down towards.

Lyra knocked an arrow, Isabela twirled her daggers, and Fenris and Hawke held their swords in ready stances. The man stood on the edge of the cliff above, peering down at them with a smirk of disgust.

"You there, you are in possession of stolen property! Release the slave immediately!" he glared down at Fenris like he was the most insignificant insect. Lyra's eyes narrowed. _How_ _ **dare**_ _he look at him like that._ Her blood _boiled_.

"Fenris is _not_ a slave!" Hawke yelled angrily, and Lyra glanced over at the elf, noticing his overly tight grip on his sword, the way his shoulders started to shake.

"Of _course_ ," Fenris said softly to himself, shaking his head, staring off into the distance. "Of course, he's still coming after me. It was only a matter of time"

"Release the slave, and we'll only capture you," the magister yelled, pulling out a knife. He reached out to his side and grabbed the scrawny arm of a teenage elf, dressed in rags, and barely enough meat on his bones. The boy simply looked up at the magister with fearful eyes, but made no move to resist. The magister nonchalantly gripped the boy's arm from the wrist, held his knife to the skin, and sliced a jagged gash down the boy's arm to the elbow, causing him to cry out in pain and blood to spill over his hands. The magisters eyes gleamed sadistically, and he smiled cruelly down at them as the blood flowed over his hands. "Fight, and we'll kill you all."

Lyra shot an arrow, aimed straight for his heart, but a wall of blood magic rose up and shielded him before it could hit. Hawke yelled out as he sprinted towards the slope, and Fenris and Isabela closely followed. Anders shot bolts of his magic from his staff as Lyra shot arrow after arrow at the magister, forcing him to block them and distracting him when her companions reached him.

More mages arrived in waves, each accompanied by elven slaves dressed poorly with swords and armor. Hawke and his companions fought them, his team more powerful than usual with five of them instead of four, and with a balanced combination of skills. Anders healed them all as the fighting came to an end, with Isabela yanking her daggers from a body and Hawke finishing off some with a final blow. Lyra backed up Fenris as he kicked the magister in the stomach, causing him to fall back and sprawl on the ground.

"Ah!" he held his stomach where an arrow had struck, and Lyra glanced at Fenris to see him _fuming_. The elf kicked him while he lay on the ground, making the magister cry out in pain, and then kicked him again, making him flip over onto his stomach from the force.

Fenris stood over the bleeding man and crouched down on top of him, reaching out with his armored hand and gripping the hair on the back of his head.

"Where. _Is he_?" Fenris slammed his face into the ground before yanking his face up, making the magister cry out again. Hawke and the others gathered around.

"I, I don't, I-!"

Fenris slammed his face again, his whole body tensed in anger, his greens piercing the man sharply.

" _Talk_!"

"Okay! Okay," he started, panting in pain, blood gushing from his broken nose and teeth. "It's not him, it's _her_ ," he gasped, but that answer only seemed to make Fenris angrier. His grip in the man's hair tightened and he yanked him up closer to his face, and the man whimpered. "It's, it's Lady Hadriana that brought us, I swear…"

Lyra watched Fenris roughly handle the man, a knot of worry tightening her stomach from the sight. _I've seen him angry before. But I've never seen him_ _ **this**_ _angry_. She glanced up and met Hawke's eyes, his also worried.

" _Where_? Where can I find her?" Fenris growled, and the man gasped out an answer.

"In the Holding caves! That's where she'll be, I swear! I swear…" he sobbed, struggling slightly, and Fenris nodded to himself before the man began to plead. "Please, please just, just let me go, I just-"

"No," Fenris snarled, and violently jerked his head, snapping his neck and killing him instantly. He stood from the body and locked eyes with Hawke. His voice lowered in anger, his eyes narrowed in hate. " _Hadriana_. The only person I want to kill as much as Danarius. She's come for me, on his command."

Hawke glanced over at Anders, who met his gaze knowingly. He looked back at Fenris, pain in his expression. "We knew this would come. We will deal with her. You have my word, Fenris. But my sister, she's-"

"I don't have time, Hawke!" Fenris yelled, impatient. "Danarius is sending men to kill you and capture me _as we speak_ , I need to go after her _now_ ," he fumed and gripped his hands into fists, and Hawke tried to reason, softening his voice.

"We will _get_ them, Fenris, we will, we will go to the Holding caves and you will have your justice, but Bethany is in danger right n-"

Fenris lost it, his greens narrowing as he pointed his finger into Hawke's chest. "Bethany will be _fine_ , Hawke, the Templars aren't out to _kill her_ , the Circle is a _blessing_ for mages and you need to wake up and realize it. Just _look_ at what happens when they have power!" he gestured to the dead magisters, as well as the dead slave the magister had mutilated for blood magic. Hawke's brows came together painfully, but he held out a hand to silence whatever Anders was about to yell in response.

"It's fine, Fenris. You don't have to come to defend my sister. I can head to the Holding caves after and offer you back up, if you go there now."

Fenris glared at him and turned away sharply, grinding his jaw in irritation and anger. "Don't bother. I'll have dealt with her by the time you get there."

Lyra watched him silently fume, trying to get his anger under control, and she turned to Hawke, her brows knitted in worry, but he beat her to words as she opened her mouth.

"Go with him," he said quietly, and as she looked in his eyes, he asked her silently, ' _Please, look after him for me.'_

She nodded to him, smiling at him appreciatively, and looked over to meet Fenris's gaze, green eyes softening considerably as they rested on hers, his voice lowering as he reached out to touch her arm unconsciously. "Lyra, you don't have to-"

She stopped him by raising a hand. Her voice was soft, soothing out the rough edges of his anger, but firm. "I am with you." she holstered her weapons, tightening a few straps on her boots, and shook out her legs in preparation for long distance running. She met his eyes, smiling at him reassuringly, and wiping away much of the fear driving his anger. "And we will be followed and joined by Hawke, when he can. We will catch her."

Fenris stared at her for a few seconds, looking between her eyes, and she could see the the angry energy pulse lower, dimmer. He sighed deeply and nodded, reaching out and softly brushing her cheek with an armored hand. She smiled at him as he glanced over to Hawke and nodded to him without meeting his eyes, before he turned and set off at a jog in the direction of the Holding caves.

Lyra met Hawke's eyes, he and the others also preparing to run back to Kirkwall. He smiled at her softly, his eyes still full of worry. "We will see you again, soon enough. Good luck."

"You too," Lyra took off after Fenris, while behind her her three companions made for Lowtown. Her stomach knotted in worry, looking at the tensed shoulders of Fenris ahead of her. _We are a capable pair, but to enter the Holding caves on our own… Please, be careful, Fenris._

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"Fenris! Wait!" Lyra yelled from across the cavern. He barely heard her, the damned elf, always barging ahead without a worry for his own. _Damn him, I have so many grey hairs because of him._

She sprinted across the empty cavern, feeling extremely uneasy from naturally being at a disadvantage by being a rogue without any cover. She reached the tunnel he had disappeared into, and heard fighting up ahead. _Shit._ She heard an explosion, and maniacal laughter, probably from Hadriana, and she bounded around the corner, ready and eager to shoot the bitch who hurt Fenris.

Fenris was a reaving weapon, hammering the blood magister with his two handed sword, throwing himself into battle and giving his all into every swing. Seconds passed and Lyra shot arrow after arrow, beating down on Hadriana's shields and distracting her from her spells, allowing Fenris to slip through her attacks and reach her. He ran through her spells so recklessly, with no worry for his safety, and Lyra felt stabs of fear as he raised his sword to strike her.

Just then, she disappeared, reappearing on the other side of the room, and causing Fenris to stumble forward, having sliced downwards through air. Lyra's eyes flashed to where she appeared to her left, and she swung her bow and shot her the same second she materialized, before her shields could regenerate. The arrow drilled through her stomach, the fletchings catching on her robes so it didn't pass all the way through her. The scream that left her throat filled the caverns in echoes, and before anything else could happen, Fenris sprinted to her once again, and shot his hand through her heart.

She whimpered as he kept her standing, and after a few words, he tensed as she started to laugh. Lyra had felt relieved from hitting her with an arrow and seeing Fenris so close to victory, but the coldest of feelings entered her stomach, and for the second time that day Lyra's heart dropped in instinctual fear as she yelled to her companion.

"Fenris! Get _away from her_!"

His head twitched in her direction, but her warning was not nearly fast enough.

It felt like slow motion, the way she sprinted to them from across the cavern without a hope of reaching them in time, how Hadriana cackled as she took a spiked metal ball out of the folds of her robe, and how Fenris squeezed her heart to kill her, thinking that would end it.

Lyra screamed, but it was drowned out by the explosion.

She and Fenris were blown backwards, but everything was silent. Or at least, Lyra couldn't hear anything as she blinked and watched fire fall all around her like flaming hail. She felt a dull throbbing in her head, her back felt like it was ripped open from lying down on the stone ground, and she turned to her side and coughed, blood spattering the ground next to her her.

The loudest ringing heard in her ears, and she cringed as her hearing returned to her She forced herself to her hands and knees, wildly searching around her for her white haired elf.

Fire was everywhere, in patches on the ground, parts of the surrounding cavern walls, falling slowly in the air. A large crater was in the center of the cave, exactly where Hadriana had once been standing. Lyra had feared a self destruct spell upon death as something mad enough for Tevinter mages to pull, but Fenris had not once headed her requests to be strategic and work together, as he had instead ran ahead and thrown himself to danger.

"FENRIS!" she yelled, stumbling around the destruction. Her chest clenched tight in fear, wishing beyond regret he would have just waited so Hawke and Anders could come. She reached the edge of the crater, and she stopped, dead in her tracks, her heart frozen.

He lay there, a bloody mess, with a hole blown through his stomach the size of an apple.

Lyra fell to her knees next to him, staring at the hole the spiked ball had made, and watching the ground around him turn red with his blood. Red mixed with the stark white of his hair, and his eyes were closed, him barely breathing.

"No. No, no. No, no, no, no," Lyra felt the dread set in. That they were alone, in a deep cave in a large cavern, far away from Kirkwall, with no healer, and with Fenris on the verge of death.

She realized, with a start, with a stab of fear, with a overwhelming wave of shame and guilt, it was time.

 _It's time to stop denying my skills._

Lyra hadn't used magic, for years. For _years_. Since before she became a grey warden, since she decided to leave her clan instead of becoming the next Keeper.

But now she had absolutely no choice.

"Forgive me," she whispered, before she took off her fingerless gloves and tucked them in her belt. Her hands were dirty from the fighting and the traveling, so she wiped them as best as she could before kneeling right beside Fenris. She concentrated, aware that she hadn't had to use this skill in so long, she would be more than rusty if she was not careful. She had almost forgotten the dried up mana stores buried deep somewhere within her. She knew how to heal life threatening injuries, but the last time she had, she was only 16, still an apprentice to the Keeper and healing a man she barely knew. Now, she was in her twenties, much more experienced but definitely _not_ in magic, healing a man she cared much more about than she could admit.

 _Also a man who, when he finds out I have lied to him about my identity, will never trust me again._

Lyra focused on the wound in front of her, blocking out her insecurities and her fears, and poured her unused mana into her hands, causing them to glow yellow. It felt alien to use this untouched part of her again, but she ignored the uneasy feeling, focusing instead on saving Fenris's life.

The healing energy poured from her hands faster than she had remembered, realizing her mana supply was so low due to her lack of practice. And yet she poured as much as she could, watching the hole in his chest begin to stitch together, and feeling the drain on her energy.

Minutes passed, and Lyra panted in exhaustion, pushing herself farther than she had ever pushed her body before, her arms beginning to shake from fatigue and the edges of her vision fading to darkness.

 _Stay awake. Stay awake. Keep healing. Keep healing._

Lyra had no idea how long she had been kneeling there, but she noticed the fire around them had died down. She was panting, sweating, utterly exhausted from her expenditure of the entirety of her mana, but was conscious enough to recognize that she had healed him enough. The hole in his stomach had been stitched together, and she knew the internal organs were healed properly. However messy her work was, it was good work, and she knew he would live.

 _But will I make it?_

Her vision started to flicker, and she shook her head, trying to remain conscious. She saw Fenris's eyelids twitch, and the last thing she could remember feeling was the immense relief from seeing him awake.

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Pain, everywhere. His head was throbbing, his spine felt like he had been slammed on the ground multiple times, and he was soaked in something wet, warm and sticky, and he slowly realized it was his own blood.

 _Lyra._

The thought of her shocked his senses awake, and he breathed in deeply, for some reason not feeling any pain in his abdomen. _Though that was where… Hadriana had…_

He groaned as he sat up, and he looked around him, seeing the effects of the explosion, and to his left, saw Lyra curled on her side. Immense relief flowed through him when he realized she was breathing, and he placed a hand on her cheek, worried that she looked so unnaturally pale.

After ensuring they were in no immediate danger, he turned to her and was pulling her into his arms when he noticed. He noticed, the apple sized hole in his chest plate, with freshly healed skin underneath. He blinked, confused, and he remembered, the spiky ball Hadriana had held between them before she literally exploded in front of him. The ball must have…

 _...gone straight through my stomach? But how am I alive?_ He looked at Lyra, unconscious in his arms. _And how did she get over here?_

He felt a very, very cold feeling enter his chest and spread through his veins. He shook his head, staring at her face. _No. No way, she could have healed me. There's no way, no way._ His hand felt the skin on his stomach, the scarring evident of a fresh healing. A fresh **magic** healing.

 _No. No. There must be an explanation. No. There's no way she's..._

He shook his head and decided he can worry about that later. Right now, Lyra and he were both in serious conditions, and he grimaced in pain and anger, knowing it was his fault they were here alone. _I should have listened to her when she said to wait. But how could I wait? When my revenge was so close at hand?_

He stumbled as he stood, and carried Lyra from the cave, his breath coming short from exhaustion and pain, his worry growing from how pale Lyra had become. He held her close to him, looking down at her every few seconds as if to make sure she was still there, and as he reached the entrance to the Holding caves, he saw the unmistakable glint of familiar armor lumbering up from the hill.

Fenris stumbled and leaned against the wall of the entrance for support as Hawke and Anders ran to him, both breathing heavily, and both with looks of defeat in their eyes.

Fenris made a mental note to watch what he says about Bethany, especially if she had just been taken to the Circle. His anger only caused these friends more pain, and holding Lyra in his arms as she seemed to wither away by the second made every last slice of anger freeze into worry.

He couldn't stop thinking, _How? How was I healed?_

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	7. Chapter 7

**Hello all! Thank you to those who have stayed with me!**

 **This chapter has a fair bit of angst in it, just thought I might preface it.**

 **Thank you for reading, have a wonderful day :)**

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"Fenris, just, please," Anders murmured as he glanced up to Hawke, silently asking for help. Hawke laid a hand on the agitated elf's shoulder, the three men cramped around a table holding the unconscious Lyra in the small corner of Ander's clinic. Fenris shrugged off Hawke's hand, but gently laid Lyra's hand down by her side before taking a few steps back to give Anders room. Anders stepped in and resumed his healing, his frown deepening as his glowing hands ran along her frame, trying to figure out what had caused her to be in this state. She was deadly pale; her skin had almost become transparent, her breath was coming short and her fingers were trembling.

Hawke could only compare her state to the state he once saw in an old man in the bowels of Darktown. Her symptoms were similar to those of someone going through drug withdrawal, though he dismissed that from what was causing her to be in this state. Hawke glanced over and watched Fenris pace back and forth, his frame more agitated than it had been when they had been in the outskirts of Kirkwall. He kept looking over at Lyra, his brows together in worry, his mouth a firm line in uncertainty. Hawke glanced down at the perfectly circular hole in Fenris's breastplate, with the telltale scarred, pink skin of newly healed flesh underneath.

 _Lyra is a mage…_ Hawke thought quietly to himself, glancing back to her collapsed form on the table, and recognizing now the signs of extreme magic fatigue. _Bethany only pushed herself this far that one time Carver broke his leg… she had looked just like this; pale, trembling, utterly spent._ Hawke's sharp blues passed over Fenris, the elf's fists clenched at his sides in distraught. _Fenris must already suspect Lyra healed him._

"I… um…" Anders began, not knowing how to start, taking a step back from the table and shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His eyes flew to Fenris's, before they quickly came to meet Hawke's. "…Lyra, she's, she's going to be fine."

Fenris let out a breath, but Hawke still held Ander's serious gaze, waiting for him to finish. The blond mage sighed heavily before continuing in a low voice. "She should wake soon, after the lyrium potion I gave her. Her mana withdrawal is severe, but she will be fine."

He looked away only to stare at Fenris's abdomen, lost in thought. Hawke stared as well without trying, and Fenris fidgeted, his anger visibly growing by each passing second, his alert eyes flitting between the two men.

"Her, mana?" he asked in a quiet growl, his head shaking in denial, his eyes wide in fear. "You can't mean. You don't mean-"

Lyra gasped out loudly, causing them all to flinch, and she sat up too quickly on the table. Anders held her shoulders, calming her down.

"Lyra, take it slow, everything is alright."

Lyra looked around the room frantically, her eyes wide, her breath still coming short. "Fenris-! Anders, is he okay? Fenris, he-"

"I'm fine," Fenris said in a flat tone, and hearing his voice caused Lyra to shoot her head around to look behind her. She was still pale, still trembling, and Hawke watched the shock and tension of the room register in her expression.

The room was silent for a few painful moments. Lyra was frozen, Fenris wouldn't meet her gaze, and Hawke felt he couldn't breath in this thick tension. Lyra let out a sharp breath, and spoke in a strained whisper.

"I never told you," she started, and Fenris's shoulders dropped in defeat. Hawke hadn't seen him this serious. Lyra looked at him earnestly, her breath coming short, her arms trembling from the effort it took to hold herself up. "I should have told you-"

Fenris didn't say a word, he just turned and walked stiffly, passing her without looking at her. Anders stayed quiet in the corner, and Hawke's hand twitched to stop Fenris. But as he looked down at the elf's sullen face, his expression holding so much betrayal and pain, Hawke felt he might break Fenris's fragile state by lying a single finger on him. Lyra's breathing got worse, her words frantic.

"Fenris, please," she exclaimed, her fearful eyes tearing up, her voice shaking. Fenris left without a word, his dead calm scaring Hawke more than his anger ever did. Lyra's crying intensified, and she tried to get off the table, her weakened limbs failing at holding her up and making her fall. Hawke lunged, catching her before she hit the dirty floor of the clinic. She sobbed out painfully, shaking out of control in Hawke's arms, and Hawke helped her back onto the table as she slowly fell apart.

"I, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, meeting Hawke's gaze, the amount of regret and shame suffusing her expression making his eyes widen. "I should have told you, I should have, I'm so…"

She struggled to stay sitting upright, her tears falling heavily, her shaking intensifying. Anders came over to help Hawke help her to lie down on the table, her body giving out from the stress and exhaustion, her protests of apology fading as her consciousness did.

Hawke met Ander's gaze as she finally passed out completely, both the men still too shocked to say anything.

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"I'm about to break the door down," Varric muttered, glancing up to meet Hawke's eyes. They were standing outside the elf's mansion, both at a loss. Varric noted the bags under his friend's eyes, the sloped shoulders. The human was tired. Exhausted, from all the things he had taken on to protect a city that didn't give him shit. And now, their moody companion wouldn't talk to _any_ of them, when they _really_ needed him to talk, because Robin was not doing okay. Not at all.

"I'm thinking we smoke him out," Hawke said his joke monotonously, and Varric just looked at him, the humorous man missing his usual positive vibe. _The whole gang's hurting._

"How is Robin doing, last you saw?" Varric asked quietly.

Hawke sighed and closed his eyes. "Last I saw, she was giving out food to the elves in the alienage, and building another contraption for their new clean water plumbing system she set up. Merrill says Lyra hasn't slept in two days; building and such, running around everywhere. Last time I asked Lyra how she was doing, she just smiled at me, waved her hand, and thanked me for worrying about her." He rubbed the back of his neck. "So in other words, she's not doing okay at all."

Varric shook his head and stared at Fenris's door, not really seeing it. "Damn it all, this whole thing should be a _good_ thing. Finding out Lyra has healing magic just makes her that much more powerful, and all of us that much less likely to die. Add in that she is proficient enough in healing to save the elf from a hole blown through him. Though, she was in pretty bad shape after that."

"Fenris hates mages, that's no secret. But I think he's more upset she didn't tell us," Hawke spoke to the air. Varric nodded, agreeing.

"Can he blame her, though? She must've known she'd get this exact reaction from him."

Hawke looked thoughtful. "I asked her, why she didn't tell any of us. She said she was just used to ignoring that part of her, since she has hidden her magic ever since leaving her clan. That it had become habit, and there was no reason to bring it up."

"In this world, in this _city_ , I don't blame her for keeping that little secret, even from us." Varric muttered, and Hawke nodded in agreement, his sister being taken away as a prisoner to the circle too fresh and painful in his heart still. He raised a fist and banged on the door again, and he sighed when there was no answer again.

"He's not ready to talk." Hawke looked down at Varric. "I say, we try on the other end. Stop Lyra before she works herself to death."

Varric nodded, then chuckled humorlessly. "This has to be the most dramatic coming out story possible."

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"Lyra, breathe," Hawke finally interrupted her. She was ranting about the new cleaner sewage system she designed for the alienage that will provide clean water for all the elves in the city. She paused and caught her breath, her fingers anxiously fidgeting with the pieces of steel mesh she was playing with to create water filters. They were sitting outside in the alienage, under the large oak in the center. Some elven children were playing on the side, throwing around a small ball with some sticks with nets that she had made for them in a Dalish game.

Hawke really looked at her, seeing her brain move in autopilot, as a form of coping with how overwhelmed she was probably feeling. _Where Fenris shuts himself off from the world, she does the other extreme; throwing herself into service for others, though unhealthily._

"I apologize, I don't mean to rant," she looked away, and Hawke shook his head.

"Have you spoken with him, since?" he asked gently.

He watched what little forced light was in her eyes leave her blue-greens, breaking the mask that was hiding her well of fatigue. She shook her head.

"No. I don't think…" she swallowed. "I don't think he wants anything to do with me."

Hawke sighed and nodded. "I think he's angry. And I think pushing everyone and everything away is his only way to deal with it."

He watched her eyes begin to glisten from behind a curtain of red hair, but she blinked them away. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I lied to him." She met Hawke's eyes with her deep wells of sadness. "I lied to _you_."

He blinked at her. The regret in her eyes was so strong, the sadness and pain showing themselves so plainly on her face. He hadn't realized how expressive her eyes were, how they shined from under the lines of her Vallaslin and showed such genuine emotion. She breathed in deeply, meeting his eyes with her honest and soft ones.

"I kept something from you all. And it was _dangerous_. For all of us." She crossed her arms around her stomach and he could see the shame leak through the cracks in her mask. "I am so sorry, Hawke."

He breathed in heavily, his chest tight from seeing her so upset, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, feeling her muscles tensed from strain. She relaxed some, soaking in the care and understanding through his kind touch, and she breathed in deeply as well before meeting his eyes. He looked down at her for a second, then broke the eye contact, looking off into the distance.

"I don't blame you, at all, Lyra. If Bethany had had any other fighting skills, I would have wanted her to keep her magic a secret from as many people as possible, too. Your deception was for safety, and I know everyone will see that too, given time."

She let out a breath and sat very still next to him, like she was struggling to hold herself together. He didn't look down at her, but he knew she had started crying. Her voice was soft, like the light breeze that graced through the alienage. "I really, really appreciate that, Hawke."

They sat together for a few moments, his arm slung around her, just sitting under the shade of the tree, watching the neighborhood children play. One child, not more than six, finally caught the ball successfully in his net, and the other children stopped and let out excited cheers as he looked at his net in wonder. Hawke smiled to himself and felt Lyra's shoulders release some tension from under his arm, and he glanced down to see her wipe her eyes and smile softly at the sight. Hawke had noticed the new energy that filled the little steps of the elven kids now, and how they really threw themselves into their games and play. As kids should.

"It really is wonderful, the hope you have given these people." he mentioned, gesturing around them in the alienage, and she shook her head, breathing easier now.

"It's the least I can do. I grew up with such privilege, taken care of by the Dalish, and these children deserve the same health and love in their community."

Hawke glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Only you would think of yourself as privileged, Lyra. You're an elven woman in a human city, and a mage in a world that fears them."

She chuckled, relaxing even more. "I suppose so. And you're an immigrant with magic in the immediate family; you're not much better off."

"That's true." he smiled as one of the children yelled to another to toss the ball.

"How are you doing, may I ask?" she asked softly, and he met her eyes, the light returning in her gaze slightly from her curiosity. "I keep my focus on the alienage. I can't imagine bearing the burden of the entire city."

Hawke sighed heavily, leaning back against the tree. He closed his eyes as he felt her lean back with him, resting back against his arm. He let the commanding mask slip off of him for a moment, letting his posture relax, and letting the anxieties surface.

"I'm pretty stressed, honestly." He felt her eyes on him, so he met them. "The Qunari, the circle, Bethany, the templars, my mother, the Viscount. Isabela." he sighed and shook his head. "It feels like everything just piles up, one after another, without any time to breathe."

She closed her eyes and settled against him comfortably. She spoke with her eyes closed, and for the first time since she returned from the Holding caves with Fenris, she seemed to fully relax, with most of the lines on her face melting. She spoke so softly, but since they were very close, he could hear her clearly.

"I always struggled at that part, in the Dalish meditations. Just… taking a second, letting all the stresses and worries in life lie still for a moment, and giving myself a space to _breathe_ …" she raised her face to the sky, eyes still closed, and smiled to herself. "Would you like to try that, with me? Hide away from our responsibilities for a little while, sit beneath this beautiful oak, and breathe?"

Hawke felt his own face relax, and a smile formed. He settled back as well, and looked up at the high oak canopy, admiring how the leaves rustled in the wind, and how the sunlight peeped through the leaves and branches. For the first time in months, he focused on relaxing his muscles, and breathing steadily. He closed his eyes and sighed from contentment, realizing just how comfortable he was sitting next to this friend.

"Absolutely."

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"Uh, hello? Fearless leader? Robin?" Lyra heard vaguely before her pillow shifted behind her head. She blinked her eyes open to see a surprised dwarf above her, looking concerned.

"Are you two alright?" he asked, and Lyra turned when she realized she wasn't alone and her pillow had actually been a large arm. Just when she looked up to see who her companion was, she met his brilliant blue eyes, very close to hers, widened in surprise. Lyra still sat under Hawke's arm, though the sun had gone down considerably and they were under the gaze of a perplexed dwarf. They blinked at each other and Hawke cocked his head in confusion.

"Did we just… take, a nap?"

A smile broke on Lyra's face. "I think so?"

Together, they burst into laughter, startling elves walking nearby, and making Varric scratch his head in confusion. Hawke chuckled so much tears came to his eyes, his laughs hard and heavy, starting deep in his stomach. Lyra slapped his shoulder and covered her mouth.

"I was coming down here to check up on Robin, but I see you got that covered, Hawke," Varric said before he shook his head and reached down to help Lyra up. She was still giggling by the time they were both standing.

"Damn, who knew that was exactly what I needed? Sleeping like a bum in a public place?"

Hawke nodded in agreement. "I haven't felt this well rested in… _years_. Last time being, waking up in the middle of a field, still drunk, after a night out."

Lyra snickered. "I'm pretty sure the only time I've ever felt this relaxed was the night after we finally killed the archdemon."

"Wow, way to one me up," Hawke bumped into her, and she winked at him in tease. Varric shook his head.

"Well, while you two were _sleeping_ , I got the elf out of his house and into the pub."

Hawke and Lyra's joking stopped and they both looked at him with wide eyes. Hawke spoke first.

"Really? He's there now?"

"Yep. I assigned Isabela to take care of him, make sure he drinks enough to be so plastered he can't tell up from down."

Hawke sighed, weight on his shoulders. "Well, she's good at that."

Lyra glanced at Hawke, noticing the tension, and noting to herself to ask him about it later. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Do you think...should I…?" Varric nodded.

"I say you come with. He's had days to stew."

Lyra nodded and breathed in deeply. "Alright. Thank you, both. I really appreciate your support, really."

Hawke nodded and Varric softened. "We need the gang back together, Robin. And we can't let-" Varric stared pointedly at Hawke, "-romance bullshit break us apart."

Both Lyra and Hawke froze and reddened from being outed for their perspective romances, looked away from Varric, and nodded. The dwarf sighed and made a fist, smiling determinedly and saying in an enthusiastic voice.

"Alright, human, elf, and dwarf, onto a night of messy drinking and desperation!" Varric looked at his two companions expectantly and glared at them when they stayed silent. "I _said_ , onto a night of messy drinking and desperation!"

The two cheered half-heartedly in response, and then looked at each other and burst out laughing.

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"Isabela, I'm going to tell you one last time. Get your hands off me." Fenris growled, pushing away the groping hands of the drunken woman. She stumbled and laughed. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his drink, heavily overwhelmed by the noises and smells of the Hanged Man. He forced himself to breathe in, and for the hundredth time, glanced at the door, hoping beyond hope he wouldn't see the blue green eyes and red hair. This time, however, he did, and his stomach dropped and his heart beat faster. An icy grip clenched his gut.

 _Lier. Betrayer. Deceiver._ _ **Mage**_ _._

She found his eyes immediately, before Hawke and Varric had even entered the door, and he watched her brows upturn and her hands clasp together and she seemed to shrink into herself. He looked away, not able to look at her for longer than a few seconds without feeling sick.

 _She's been a mage this whole time. And I…_

He downed the rest of his drink and decided to leave to the nearest exit. _I can't do this. I can't… I can't even look at her._ It hurt his chest too much.

He stood and strode away fast enough to dodge Isabela's hands, heading for the back door. He heard Hawke and Varric calling after him, but he blatantly ignored them. _Coming here was a mistake._

He broke out of the bar and he inhaled deeply the fresh air, and headed home. He walked for a time to Hightown, thankful the streets were empty, with each step thinking more and more about her.

 _One year._

He clenched his hands into fists, his heart beating resolutely in his chest.

 _One whole year, she lead you on._

He felt his anger grow fast, like a fire catching on a sea of dead wood.

 _She didn't trust you._

 _She didn't trust you enough to tell you._

He stopped his trek to turn to the nearest wall and punch it, hard, causing the brick to crack and his knuckles to split.

"Fuck." he murmured to himself, bending down to grab some snow to help numb the pain and stop the bleeding. The sharp pain temporarily relieved his inner turmoil, only to be instantly worsened by the voice behind him.

"I don't suppose you'd like me to heal that," she asked quietly directly behind him, and he spun around, his heart stopping from her voice.

He stared at her for a few seconds, taking in her frame in the snow. Her shoulders were hunched and she was tensed, like she was bracing to take a blow. Her eyes were open and vulnerable. His gut twisted as he registered her question, and he glared.

"Right. _Healing_." He turned away and started towards Hightown. He couldn't hear her, but he wasn't surprised when she followed.

"I'm here to apologize, Fenris." she said softly behind him, and he set his shoulders. _I can't do this._

"Don't bother. I don't want to hear it." he said these words much harsher than he meant to, but he didn't take them back.

"I lied to you."

He closed his eyes but continued walking.

"I lied to you, and everyone here I love."

He tried to ignore her, his ears straining to hear her as his stomach folded itself from the pain her voice caused him.

"And I was wrong to. It was selfish of me, because I was afraid you would never fall for me as a mage, I was _terrified_ you would never trust me from the first night I met you. And that was _wrong of me_."

Her voice was breaking from the pain, from the shame. His chest felt so tight it was hard to breathe.

"There were plenty of times for me to tell you. Plenty. And I decided to hide it, because it was sweeter to live in hiding, it was nicer for you to see me as someone not tainted by magic. I was so, so afraid of you seeing me as just another weak-willed mage controlled by her emotions."

Her voice was raw, jagged, naked with harsh sincerity, but her vulnerability just felt like a sharp knife through his stomach. He knew she was crying. He could hear her. He blinked his eyes to keep the tears in, but walked on. _Stop. Stop. Please, stop._

"I kept things from you, things I knew you should know, and that was _manipulative_ of me. Fenris, I am so, so sorry, and now I know I am not just a dangerous mage, I am a _lying_ dangerous mage, and I can't ask you to ever forgive that, I can't ask you to see me the same ever again, because I am so disgusted with myself that I refused to _trust_ you with the truth, and I-"

He stopped her by turning around and grabbing her shoulders. Her cheeks were wet from her sobbing, her reddened eyes so sad he felt his heart lurch, but he stopped her, unable to hear any more.

"Stop. You-" he shook his head and clenched his hands. "Lyra, I'm losing my fucking _mind_. Do you have _any_ idea-" he had to look away.

The sight of her tears gave him such a physical ache in his chest, but his anger spread and saturated his veins like the lyrium burned in his skin.

 _FUCK._

He lost all control. He lashed out in a yell, his voice raised to hide how close he was to falling apart.

"I've felt empty before, when I was a _slave_. But that's _nothing_ compared to how you've made me feel. What was I? A pretty _toy_ to play with?! Is that what all mages in my life will do with me? Did what we have mean _nothing to you_?!"

He stopped himself, knowing he didn't mean anything he just said. His anger knew exactly what to say to hurt her. He kept his eyes averted, knowing if he looked at her, he would crumble, completely. She didn't say anything to defend herself, and he silently fumed, his hand throbbing from his split knuckles, his heart pounding pain with every beat. He heard her intake a shaky breath, but her words were said with conviction.

"I may be a mage. But I am a mage that _loves you_."

Fenris's heart dropped to the floor, and the welled up tears in his eyes finally fell on his cheeks, even though his eyes were closed. He clenched his fists.

"I don't believe you anymore."

With that he turned away from her and took off at a sprint. He could never tell if she was following, but he suspected she wasn't. He ran until he somehow made it to the mansion, and immediately turned to the wall to his left. He punched it, hard, the shock jolting through his limbs and the pain giving him temporary reprieve, and then he punched it with his other fist, and he continued until the wall was splattered with blood. He couldn't quite see it, because the tears were freely flowing now, but he did notice the edges of his vision darkening and his balance becoming hard to keep. He felt himself fall backwards, and he vaguely realized he was passing out, just as he saw the red hair enter his vision.

However angry he was with her, however much pain he felt because of her, the last thing he felt before sinking to darkness was extreme relief she was near.


	8. Chapter 8

Hawke heard a faint knock on his door, like the Maker himself had realized how lonely the mansion was for him. _Who could it be, though, at this hour?_

He put his robe on, and strode to the front door. He opened it, and immediately tensed from seeing the ominous, dark, hooded and armed figure standing in the snow, before he blinked and realized it was his friend. He immediately sobered, knowing something must have gone down with her and Fenris when they left the Hanged Man so early. She raised her eyes to meet his, and he saw extreme exhaustion in them.

"Hawke, forgive me, it is so late. But I don't think I'm able to walk home right now."

He blinked before quickly ushering her inside.

"Of course Lyra, get in here, it's freezing."

They stepped into his entry room, and he took Lyra's bow and arrows for her as she removed her hood and snow covered cloak. He watched her, seeing her shoulders slumped from fatigue and not knowing what she needed, but ready to offer her food or the couch if she needed it. She removed multiple knives from her leather clothing, and she slumped against the wall to rest for a moment. _I've only seen her this exhausted once before; when she overused her magic._

"Tea?" he asked, and she nodded before closing her eyes. He led her to the sitting room and she collapsed onto the couch. He went to the kitchen and put a kettle on to boil. He returned, took a moment to stoke the fire, and sat next to her. She met his concerned gaze with her deepened eyes, an air of seriousness sharpening her tired gaze.

"Thank you, Hawke. You've only ever been a supportive friend, and I don't think anyone ever thanks you for it."

He brushed her words off humbly with a smile. "I wouldn't be able to do half the things we do without our crazy bunch keeping me in check."

She smiled and nodded, but it didn't reach her eyes. He looked at her meaningfully.

"Would talking about it help?" he asked softly, and she met his eyes with a tired smile.

"It would, thank you, Hawke. I am just beat after healing broken knuckles and wrists, and then carrying a heavily armed warrior up two flights of stairs."

Hawke looked at her seriously and waited for her to explain. Her eyes welled up, but the tears didn't fall. She seemed to sink into the couch cushions, the defeat in her eyes painful for him to look at.

"I followed him, when he asked me not to, and forced my apologies and excuses onto him. I made him run from me, punch the wall of his mansion until he broke his wrists, and then he passed out, probably from the pain."

They sat in silence for a few moments as her tears fell quietly. He got up and grabbed the quilt hanging on the back of the couch, draping the blanket around her gently, her shoulders shaking and her head bowing. He sat right next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders gently, and she leaned into him and hid her face into his robe. He felt her silently shake through her sobs, and he just held her firmly as she rode through this wave of grief.

"What's your favorite tea?" he asked quietly after a time that she had settled, and she wiped her cheeks before meeting his eyes. He blinked at how bright they were as she smiled at him appreciatively.

"I have some on me, actually," she said as she reached into a small pocket on her belt. She pulled out a small drawstring leather pouch, and when she opened it, the smell that wafted to him smelled like a dense forest after rain, with a hint of flowery mint. He inhaled heavily and leaned towards her, and she chuckled at his display.

"That smells heavenly. Is it Dalish?"

"Yes, I just dried some herbs, so this batch is fresh. May we brew it?"

"Oh, definitely," he said, and they got up together, Lyra tightening the quilt around her shoulders, and they headed for the kitchen where the water was heating. Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced over to her to see her worried.

"You don't mind the late hour? Were you going to sleep soon?"

"No, I was just thinking I would like some company. You came with wonderful timing, however sad the circumstances."

She nodded and averted her eyes, a little of the brightness dimming. But as she prepared the tea leaves, he watched her shoulders relax from the tension she came in with. When the tea was fitted into a filter, she turned to him and leaned her hip against the counter, meeting his eyes with her soft, inquisitive ones.

"We spend our time talking about my troubles. May I ask about yours?"

He looked at her and smiled slightly, then nodded. "You may. I…" he looked away and leaned against the counter as well. "I love and care for her, as a fighter, as a friend. But not as a partner."

He paused and frowned, but continued. _I'm not used to being able to talk about this._ "I guess I'm feeling old, or, _tired_ , after these years here. I admire her way of keeping things light, of not taking anything too seriously. But I think I need something more serious." He sighed. "We no longer give the other what we need. She needs flexibility, while I need stability."

Lyra closed her eyes and nodded. She sighed heavily, and he saw the pain return in her expression. "It is a terrible feeling, to be something that cannot satisfy what the other needs."

"You _are_ what Fenris needs," Hawke said without thinking, and she met his eyes with her pained ones. "He is just too afraid to believe it."

She ran her hand through her hair, before absently staring at the tea. Her voice was weak, like a strained whisper. "I've never hurt anyone, like I hurt him."

Hawke closed his eyes, feeling her words compress his chest so that breathing in was harder. "Pain is not the only thing you've given him." he opened his eyes and met hers, the blue-greens bright and watery. "His old wounds, have finally started to heal. We all see it."

Lyra gave him a weak smile, and clutched at her stomach. "I'm afraid I may have slowed that down, now."

Hawke sighed and shifted closer to her, still leaning on the counter, next to her. "No one escapes a relationship unscathed. Maker knows I wasted Isabela's time like no one has before."

Lyra blinked up at him and Hawke gripped the edge of the counter. He met her eyes after a second, seeing her brows together. She shook her head gently. "No time spent with you is wasted, Hawke. You of all people."

He gave her a weak smile back. "I didn't give her what she needed. Even when I knew, I knew she wasn't asking for much, she only wanted me to show her that I care about her more than the bare minimum…" he sighed and looked to the side, shaking his head slightly. Lyra took in a slow, deep breath next to him, and then she took another. He glanced down at her to see her breathe to herself, and he could see the calm enter her expression as her eyes fell closed.

"We will always care for them," she spoke softly, like she wouldn't disrupt the calming field of energy emitting from her. "We will only care for them differently, now?"

He blinked down at her quiet question, at the simplifying notion. _Yes, I will always care for her. But caring for her in that way, was not the way._

He nodded to himself, finding calm in her sentiment, and he glanced down and smiled slightly at the tired elf next to him.

They stood in silence, but not an uncomfortable silence. Hawke really looked at his friend, like he was searching for something. He saw the slight sag in her shoulders from her exhaustion, but the strength in her eyes when she felt and met his gaze. He breathed in heavily, and exhaled through his nose, copying her breathing technique, and releasing some of the tension he carried every time he talked about his previous partner. Lyra seemed to relax some as well, the lines on her face leaving and making her seem content just to stand in his kitchen with him, waiting for the tea.

 _She probably doesn't realize how rare these moments are for me. Where I can just… be_ still _. And smell the tea._

"It's not just Isabela," he began, voice halting, unused to speaking about his worries and troubles without any abandon. "These last months have been… the hardest of my life," he looked away, turning and fidgeting with the kettle handle.

He chewed the words in his mouth for a moment, and Lyra just waited patiently, giving him the time and space to voice his thoughts. He shook his head, crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter, looking off into the distance.

"The Viscount had me in a meeting for three hours yesterday, mitigating the officials, keeping the politicians in charge from declaring outright war against the Qunari." He felt an immediate weight being lifted from him just saying this out loud. "I have to alleviate the tensions between the qunari and the damned human elitist zealots, all while the Templars continue to tighten the noose around every mage they can find with a new and easier way to perform the rite of tranquility, and my own _sister_ …"

He stopped and clenched his jaw, his brows coming together. The avalanche of overwhelming emotions he had been suppressing for months were suddenly too close to the surface, and he felt the familiar itch in his throat and heating of his face prelude the tears in his eyes. _It's all so much._ He stood very still in his kitchen, next to his companion, and whispered, angrily.

"I just can't believe I couldn't protect Bethany."

Lyra turned to him, and he felt her small hand rest on his upper arm. He blinked his eyes quickly, struggling to keep himself composed, and kept his gaze averted from hers. She suddenly spoke with a voice that sounded like all traces of exhaustion had been wiped clean from her spirit, replaced with a strong and firm conviction that made him turn and blink at her with wide eyes.

"You will not blame yourself." she looked back and forth between his eyes, her gaze sharp and keen as she waited for him to hear her command. "I know, that you know, that you did everything within your power to help her. You help Bethany every _day_ by fighting for mage rights, by fighting for peace within this city's government and this city's streets. Your service to the people of Kirkwall inspires me every day, Hawke."

 _I, inspire, you?_

Hawke blinked at her, noting how her hand had turned to a resolute fist resting lightly on his arm, how her blue-greens regarded him with a ferocity that reminded him of who this woman is. _The Hero of Ferelden. Of course, she understands this stress. This legendary woman, this compassionate friend, is inspired by_ _ **me**_ _?_

He stared at her dumbly for a moment, and like water rushing over jagged rocks, her expression smoothed into openness, her fist relaxed to a gentle hand holding his arm. Her voice lowered, her brows came together, and she quieted with the color of sincerity.

"The burden you carry, is one that is increased by how much care you have for the people." her eyes seemed to flash with memories in her past. "Many lessen the burden, by caring less. But you don't run from it, Hawke. You hold the grief, the suffering of our people here in your arms and in your heart, and you _rejoice_ in the privilege of sharing their experience and fighting for their lives, however weary it makes you." she broke into a small smile, nodding to him meaningfully. "I am so proud, to follow you."

 _Oh, Maker._

His chest felt like it had been compressed into thick honey, threatening to seep apart and melt onto the stone of his floor. His tears overrode his will to remain collected, and suddenly his shoulders were shaking with the force of his overwhelmed heart.

He bent over his aching chest to clap a hand over his mouth, as if he could contain the tsunami of tears waiting to be released. A sob escaped him and Lyra was there in front of him, reaching up to hold him as his pieces fell apart one by one. He leaned over her smaller frame as her arms came up to encircle his neck, and he buried his face into the top of her shoulder, like a tall, shuttering engine struggling to stand.

He wept into her embrace, unable to call forth his commanding mask, eased to release from her kind honesty. She shushed him quietly and she stroked the back of his head, and his body was wracked with shuddering waves of his intense emotion.

Suddenly a high pitched whistling shattered the profound space like cold water, and they both flinched and froze, Hawke realizing it was the kettle. Lyra retracted her arms and Hawke raised his head, chuckling awkwardly and wiping his eyes, turning to take the kettle off the stove and cease the whistling. He caught his breath quickly, and Lyra moved smoothly to help set the tea leaves.

 _Dear Andraste._ He blinked, hiding how flustered he was.

"This tea shouldn't need to steep for longer than a few minutes," Lyra mentioned, glancing up and meeting his gaze. She smiled at him, a twinkle in her eye, and he sighed heavily, nodding and returning her smile.

"Here we are," Hawke set the tea infuser into the kettle, the smell already wafting forth pleasantly. He sighed again and spoke without turning to her.

"I hate for others, to have to see me…" he shook his head, smiling to himself. "...weakened. I'm… I'm sor-"

"If I remember correctly," Lyra interrupted him, raising an eyebrow and giving him a smile. "I quite literally barged in here not too long ago and fell apart myself on your couch over there."

Hawke blinked at her as she chuckled, and he watched her shake her head and mind the tea. _I suppose we both have cried onto the other here, in this short time._ He readied two mugs, smiling to himself.

"I probably figured, the Hero of Ferelden is allowed a moment or two after all that's happened, whereas my troubles seem so insignificant in the grand scheme of things."

"Hawke, please," Lyra gave him a look, crossing her arms but giving him a half smile. "I am just a woman, who makes plenty of mistakes and is trying to find a place in this world like anyone. Your troubles, your emotions are not in the least bit insignificant." she looked off, staring at the fire in the room over. "It is a gift to show someone your weakness. For it is when we own and acknowledge our pains that we can begin to work through them, and overcome them." she glanced over to him, pulling his blanket tighter over her shoulders like a shawl. "It is a trust that I do not take lightly. And a strength that I quite admire."

Her gaze found the fire again, and Hawke watched her for a moment, chest warming from her validation. Watching her smile absently into the fire helped him find calm again. He turned and poured the tea, and handed her one while holding the other.

 _She does have that way about her,_ he thought, cocking his head slightly as he regarded the quiet elf, closing her eyes and smelling the tea. _A subtle…contentment. I felt it earlier today, when we fell asleep under that oak, just a relaxing aura. Her inner calm can be contagious._

They both sipped at their tea, their eyes meeting, and her smiling from behind her mug from his reaction. The warmth seeped into him like a hot bath on a cold day, and the scent brought his mind tumbling through the wild. _So exotic and fresh, and yet… a feeling of belonging._

"This is...really good, Lyra."

Lyra bowed her head, shielding her smile with a curtain of red, holding her cup in both hands to warm them. She met his eyes and he watched her cheeks gain some color from the warmth. "Thank you. I can write the recipe down, if you'd like."

"I'd much rather you just come over more."

Her eyes met his with raised eyebrows, and he blinked before she smiled.

"I'd like that."

He felt his cheeks redden, and he frowned to himself. She turned and walked back to the couch, his blanket like a regal cape trailing behind her bare feet, and he followed, joining her as she relaxed into the cushions. They settled into the soft couch, the tea so pleasant and the fire in front of them warming them.

 _If I had seen myself like this 5 years ago, I wouldn't believe it. Sitting in my own mansion, sipping Dalish tea next to the Hero of Ferelden._ He closed his eyes and sunk a little deeper into his couch. _Things will be alright. I'll make it through these hard times by taking little moments like this, next to people like this._

They sat silently for a few moments, sipping their tea, and listening to the cracks and pops from the fire. Later, Hawke felt her eyes, and he looked down to meet her blue-greens, soft and tired.

"I feel many times better than when I first got here," she murmured softly, her eyes blinking slowly and her head resting back against the couch. He blinked at her, and his face broke into a smile, feeling a similar pull to sleep.

"I feel many times better than when you got here as well, Lyra." He finished his tea, and he fully relaxed into the couch, letting gravity pull his limbs and his eyelids down. He felt her rest against his side, her frame shifting to mold with his, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder. His empty teacup rested against his thigh, but he barely noticed it; he focused more on the sound of the fire, and the soft sounds of his friend breathing right next to him. _Such a relaxing sound._

He felt her shift slightly, and she murmured softly, like she was falling asleep. "May I crash here tonight?"

"Of course." he murmured back.

She nodded, her head rubbing against his shoulder. "Thank you."

He smiled and rested his cheek against the top of her head, and they settled together, much like they had just earlier in the day, except now they were on a couch, in the warmth, instead of under a giant tree in a neighborhood.

 _I hadn't thought I could feel more comfortable than that. I was mistaken._

O

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The sound of birds chirping roused Hawke from his deep slumber. He slowly came to consciousness, without rush, for he felt very comfortable, and very safe. _Though_ _my neck is a bit sore._

He sighed lazily and opened his eyes to see the ashy remains of his living room fire, the only source of light the sun coming in from the high windows in his mansion, casting the room into a cool blue atmosphere. He felt something tickle his chin, and with a start he realized he was resting on a person's _head_.

 _Ah, Lyra._ He carefully turned his head to look at her, still sleeping soundly on his shoulder. Her face was completely lack of any tension, the full weight of her body resting against his. He smiled to himself.

He looked up at the window, and to his shock, realized they had slept in pretty late. _I have a lunch meeting with the Viscount_.

He looked at his friend once again, noticing a stray strand of hair had escaped from behind her pointed ear. He reached and gently pushed it back in place, marvelling at how bright the red color was, even in the dimmed light. He sighed lightly, knowing he would have to wake her, even though she looked so content.

Hawke reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. She roused slowly, her eyes blinking lazily while she shifted, and she raised her head and looked around. She met his eyes with widened ones, and she blinked at him, before cocking her head and smiling.

"Did I… I seem to be making a habit of stealing your shoulder."

Hawke nodded. "I passed out last night, where is…" he picked up his empty teacup next to him and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. "I feel very well rested."

She met his eyes. "I do too."

He watched her eyes smile at him unguardedly, and he shook himself, remembering his duties.

"I have to meet with the Viscount for lunch, if I remember correctly."

"Ah, I have to meet with Keeper Marethari soon as well." her eyes seemed to light up, and she perked up slightly from the relaxed position they were still in. "I think I can get her support in supplying the alienage with work, since the farming season is approaching."

"That's good news. I think the Viscount just wants to complain to me about something or another," Hawke mentioned, and Lyra chuckled.

"Warrior by day, counselor also by day." she sat up and reached her arms up, stretching, reminding him of a cat. He looked down and collected their teacups, running a hand through his messy hair. He stood up and stretched as well before taking the dishes to the kitchen. When he returned, Lyra had already fetched her cloak and hood, and was strapping her quiver and her bow to her back. She met his eyes, an excited light in them.

"Hawke, I had almost forgotten to mention, but today is the Spring Equinox!' she busied herself, tightening straps on her leather boots. "I plan to celebrate in the alienage the way the Dalish do; with food and festival. Merrill must already be preparing; I must run to the mountains to gather fresh game and ingredients." she paused to meet his eyes, her brows slightly worried and her smile small. "I wish I could have offered to make you breakfast in thanks for letting me crash."

Hawke chuckled and waved his hand, charmed by her enthusiasm. "Don't mention it. You are always welcome."

"Thank you, Hawke. Will you come and join the celebration? I do believe Merrill talked Varric into coming," she asked, light hope in her eyes. He nodded, smiling.

"Absolutely. I get to look forward to it, during my captivating lunch with the Viscount."

"I will see you tonight, then. Don't get too enthralled by the Viscount's intriguing conversation," she waved to him as she made her way to the front door, shrugging her shoulders to make her quiver and bow sit on her back more comfortably. Her blue greens flashed as she glanced at him behind her shoulder, and he caught her smile. "Thanks again, Hawke."

O

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Lyra was on her way back to Kirkwall, carrying a bag of the freshest food; freshly killed rabbit and fox, and a variety of wild vegetables and herbs, along with the array of spices she always made sure to find. _Oh how good it feels to hunt again_ , she thought, enjoying the last few moments of quiet before entering the giant city full of thousands and thousands of people. She passed through the city gate leading to the outskirts, waving to the guard on duty. _I'm thankful for Aveline; being friends with the guards is certainly wonderful._ She slowed as she passed the man in city armor, cocking her head and thinking he looked awfully lonely.

She stopped in front of him, and stuck her hand into her large sack as the guard raised his eyebrows at her. She handed him a green apple, freshly picked from a tree deep in the secluded mountains. The man's face lit up and he accepted it from her, smiling as she winked to him goodbye.

She headed into the city, stepping into the clean cobblestone of Hightown, looking out of place in her leather, carrying a large sack among the finely dressed noblemen. She lugged her findings through the streets, and slowed as she approached a certain mansion. She looked up, a coldness gripping her stomach.

 _I wonder how his wrists healed._

Images of his broken and bloody hands filled her mind, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dried blood splatters on the wall to the left of the doorway. _That was where, after I provoked him, he punched it so much he broke his…_

She shook her head, willing herself to not get consumed with guilt. Deep down she felt a responsibility. A duty to check up on him, and crying her eyes out did nothing to help him.

A deep breath in, and she knocked on the door. She waited a minute, and then put her ear up to listen against the door. She heard the faintest sound of footsteps retracting, and she nodded to herself. Without thinking much, she walked around to the back of the mansion, left her bag behind a bush, and lightly scaled the wall, holding on to the windowsill to a room three stories up.

She pulled herself into the room and lighted on the carpet, glancing around and immediately finding him lying on the couch in a corner. He had an arm lying over his eyes, and she could _feel_ the tension in the room. Knowing he was awake, she cleared her throat.

He sat up quickly, and looked at her, his surprise turning immediately to pain. He stared at her for a few seconds, the only emotion showing on his face as frustration, before he looked to the side and spoke with formality.

"What do you want."

Lyra clasped her hands together. "I just wanted to check in."

"It's not your place to do that." he met her eyes, the frustration in his greens turning to anger. "Leave me."

Lyra did her best to keep her face passive, though the words stabbed her heart. She spoke softly. "Please let me check on your hands first, or see Anders. I am unpracticed in healing."

He scoffed. "I'll worry about my hands. You worry about your _healing_ , _away_ from me."

Lyra closed her eyes and nodded, in a daze but utterly regretful. Her chest was so constricted, but she got words out with effort. "I apologize. I will not intrude again." With that she swiftly leaped onto the windowsill, and prepared to climb down the wall. Before she did, she glanced back at him, and immediately stilled.

He was glaring at her, but his greens were welled with unshed tears. He stood then from the couch and faced her, and she saw so many questions flit across his expression. He spoke aggressively, the pain in his voice stabbing her.

"Why did you hide your magic?"

She blinked at him, but responded. "I had to, from the start. When I became a grey warden, I had the responsibility to negotiate with the leaders of many different factions, nations, and races, and being an apostate would have only made that more difficult. I didn't have _time_ to come out and learn the skills from my burden, people were dying every day all across the land, there was a _war_ going on, and I was a leader in it." She sat on the windowsill cautiously. "After the war, I fled. And I was already so adept at hiding my magic, why change? When I met you, I was not about to sign myself up for the circle, and I had planned on telling everyone, one day." Lyra felt her cheeks were wet, and hadn't realized she had been crying. "But I did not tell you, when I should have."

She stopped herself, knowing she was prone to ramble when upset. He was still standing in front of her, and she could see the effort he was putting in to keep himself stoic.

"When should you have told me?" he asked quietly.

Lyra blinked at him, and her brows came together and the pain in her chest doubled, the dread felt like heavy metal in her gut. She wanted to run away. She wanted to get on her knees and beg his forgiveness. She forced herself to speak. "I should have told you...before...before we…"

 _Gods please, don't make me say it..._

Her tears became thicker, and she watched the first of his fall as he closed his eyes. "I don't know if I still would have, if you had told me before."

Pain, sharp, like a thin stiletto, stabbing into her heart over, and over, and over again, through her rib cage, with every heartbeat. She felt like she had finally broken, knowing that she had fully, taken advantage of him. She covered her mouth, and closed her eyes in defeat. Her voice came like a whisper, she had no breath support.

"I am full of regret, then. I had not the strength to come clean to you when you deserved it, and in by continuing dishonestly, I _used_ you, however way I spin it."

She heard him sit down heavily on the couch, and he looked off into the distance. "You regret it, then? That night?" He looked defeated, his shoulders sagging, the light in his green eyes, gone. Her damaged heart lurched, her ears warmed. _That night._

"I do not regret what we shared," she said firmly, and he glanced to her, meeting her gaze. "I will never regret what we had together." His eyes seemed the least guarded they have been ever since him finding out. She continued. "But I do regret, making you unsure, making you uncomfortable, I regret manipulating the way you saw me." She wiped her nose, her eyes still streaming. "I regret lying to you, because while it may have brought me temporary safety, it has brought you pain, and _nothing_ was worth that."

He stared at her for a moment, the eye contact the long, the anger slowly draining. She stayed silent, just wishing she knew what to do, what would bring him the least amount of pain at this point. He stood, and walked over to her slowly, keeping his eyes averted. His tears had stopped, and his face had taken on a deadened grimace.

"You may inspect them," he said quietly, holding out his hands to her. She looked down at them, and a new host of tears blurred her vision from how overwhelmed she felt. She quickly composed herself and concentrated her mana into her hands, and she hovered her hands over his, engulfing them in her soft yellow light. She watched him stiffen, as he always does around magic, but he stayed still, allowing her to push her senses deeper into the inner mechanisms of his hands. His bones were set right, as well as his muscles, and the skin on his knuckles were only slightly scarred.

"Do they hurt anywhere?" she chanced, and he just shook his head. She nodded and removed her hands, glancing up at his face. "They are healing well. Thank you." He dropped his hands. They stayed there for a moment, her still perched on the windowsill, him standing, before he met her eyes.

"I'll let you know if I get any word on Danarius." he said before turning away and returning to sit on the couch. Lyra blinked at him, hearing the subtle dismissal, but feeling thankful he would think to tell her still.

"I'll keep an ear out, too." she said quietly, watching him. He nodded, but kept his attention on the fireplace, his eyes unfocused. She turned and lowered herself from the sill, dropping down the side of the building, landing lightly on the cobblestone. She grabbed her bag, and glanced up once more at the window, wiping the last tears from her cheeks. She breathed in heavily, and then turned, heading to Lowtown. The pain remained in her chest, but it was a little bit easier to breathe.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello readers, I included an unoriginal song in this chapter and changed a few words in it; "Come In", by The Irish Rovers.**

 **I hope all is going well in your life, and if you're having a hard time, then may my silly stories bring you a moment of peace.**

 **Thank you for reading, please enjoy the festival, and happy belated Equinox!**

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Hawke leaned in the doorway of the Hanged Man, the occasional sorry soul slipping in next to him for an early drink. He polished a knife as he waited, watching the people in the bar and just enjoying _not_ being in the City's capitol building.

 _I'm ready for a good time tonight, after the stress of the nobles_.

He already felt better just being in the Hanged Man again. He waved to a familiar face, and watched Varric over by the bar. The dwarf shook hands with the bartender, both looking satisfied, and then he finished his drink before turning to leave.

Hawke smiled and raised an eyebrow as his friend approached him. "Something go well?"

Varric nodded, and they turned to leave, exiting out into the setting sun. "Really well. You might be looking at the future co-owner of the Hanged Man Bar, Master Varric Tethras!"

Hawke gasped and smiled at him with wide eyes, slapping the dwarf's shoulder. "Shut up, that's fucking cool! I know you've been wanting this! Shit this makes me happy," he bent down and wrapped his arms around Varric, hugging the much shorter man.

"Ack-! Hawke-!" Varric protested, and Hawke laughed merrily, a few Lowtown citizens skirting around the strange pair with a wide breadth and funny looks.

"You'll do great, Varric! And now I won't be kicked out so often!"

Varric growled lightly and pushed Hawke's arms away. "Ha, no promises Hawke, I can't say- ugh, you, get _off_ me you giant human!"

They struggled as they made their way through the Lowtown streets, Varric yelling and Hawke gushing, the weather more pleasant than it had been for months.

Before long they started to hear the distant sound of partying people, the telltale sounds of live music, laughter, and clinking glasses. They came round the bend of the street and walked into a mass of swirling lights and colors, both men stopping at the edge to take it all in.

"Wow," Hawke murmured, blinking at the dozens and dozens of people talking or dancing under streamers and colorful flags hanging from the tall branches of the center tree in the alienage. Hundreds of candles flickered around the quarter; on tables, on the walls, in a circle around the tree's roots. The area around the tree was a flurry of dancing elves of all shapes, sizes, and ages, holding hands and frolicking around in a circle to the beat of the music. Hawke's gaze found a small band in one of the quarter's corners, the instruments consisting of a few lutes, flutes, and drums, and their tune light and merry.

"Hawke! Varric!" The two shook themselves from staring and watched a tipsy Merrill stumble up the steps to them. She wore a light blue dress and a crown of flowers, and held a half-full tankard in hand.

"Daisy, look at you!" Varric reached up to meet her in a hug, and he chuckled when she spilled some drink on his jacket. "Woah there, couldn't wait for old Varric to start the fun?"

"Oh, Varric, I'm so glad you're here! And oh, I'm sorry we've been starting, truth be told we've been drinkin' for a while now," she led them down the steps into the festival, weaving around mingling elves with tankards or flags. Hawke looked around with a grin, taking it all in, and momentarily caught the sight of a familiar redhead on the other side of the courtyard before moving crowds obscured his view. He followed Varric and Merrill over to a stand with barrels upon barrels behind it, and Merrill got them each a large glass of mead.

The sweet brew sparked along Hawke's tongue pleasantly, bringing him fully into the atmosphere of the festival. Hawke recognized an elder he had worked with once, and the older woman approached him with a smile, swaying along with the jig playing in the background.

"Hawke, welcome! Good Spring to you!" she knocked her tankard against his glass lightly and continued on, replaced quickly by another elf Hawke knew. Varric and Merrill joined him, and they talked and laughed with the people of the alienage as they drank to the sunset.

A loud burst of children laughter drew their attention, and Hawke looked across the courtyard to see an audience of elflings gathered around Lyra, whose sight made him blink. She stood with her hair let down in a wild mess, her red waves intertwined with flowers and leaves draped over a mossy green dress that flowed and danced with the wind. _She looks like a Goddess of Spring_ , he thought to himself, and after remembering this was the Spring Equinox, his reaction was more fitting.

He and Varric meandered over to her, skirting around the dancing pairs the main crowd and ducking under swooping strings of flags. Hawke strained his ears to hear over the music, and watched as Lyra chose a volunteer from the excited children to stand in the center.

"What do you reckon she's doing, over there?" Varric voiced, and Hawke shook his head with a smile.

"No idea."

The volunteer was a young boy not older than 10, and judging by his comfortability around Lyra they were acquainted. Hawke blinked as Lyra and the rest of the children stepped back and formed a circle around the boy. _Is he holding… a cantaloupe?_

Hawke and Varric watched at the edge, along with a few other adults watching, probably some of the children's parents. Lyra commanded the attention of every pair of child's eyes as she gestured to the cantaloupe, then gestured to the sunset over the far horizon, all twenty or so little heads following her pointing to the lowered sun. When Hawke looked back to her she had produced a green apple, and she held it up for all the children to see as she continued in some kind of explanation.

"Ah, the fruit! It took her using fruits to explain it all to me as well," Merrill mentioned with a giggle, and Hawke looked down at her, perplexed.

"What is she explaining to them, Merrill?"

"Oh, you'll see, Hawke."

He blinked and fixed his attention back on his friend, not being able to make out her words but hearing the energy and excitement in her voice that held the children engrossed. She pulled a single arrow from the ever present quiver on her back, and in a quick motion that had the children flinch in excitement, she stabbed the arrow through the top of the apple, right through the core. Scattered giggles were heard from the audience as she continued explaining, and then she held up the apple so her arrow pointed to the ground, and slowly spun the arrow, rotating the apple.

 _What on earth?_

"Have either of you heard the strange story that the ground we're stepping on is actually the surface of a gigantic sphere?" Merrill giggled as she drank from her tankard, and Hawke blinked at her, recognizing hearing that theory from somewhere. _Now that I think about it, when we're on that tall mountain up in the outskirts, the horizon does look a bit curved._

"Daisy, what are you on about?" Varric steadied her, and she shook her head, trying to stay serious.

"I swear, Varric, that's what Lyra's saying! That cantaloupe is the sun, and _we're_ all on that apple!"

Hawke looked back at her, and watched her lean in close so the children could see what she was pointing at on the apple she had skewered.

"Oh hey, the dwarves have some funny origin stories too Daisy, but don't ask me for them cause I couldn't tell you…"

The children had started raising their little hands, and Lyra had begun answering questions, smiling and encouraging the children's inquiries. Finally she knelt down in front of the boy holding the cantaloupe and ruffled his hair, and he scampered into the audience formed in a ring around her. In one a swift motion, she threw the cantaloupe straight up high into the air, pulled a dagger out, and sliced the cantaloupe a few times in a blurry of speed. Oo's and ah's emitted from the elflings, and she caught the slices of fruit, quickly cutting them into smaller pieces, and started giving one to each child.

The children dispersed after claiming their prize, and when all had been given a piece of fruit and a loving pat from Lyra, she stood and caught the gaze of Hawke with a wide smile.

He waved to her as she approached them, her hair tousled from the wind, her dress a stark difference from the leather they were used to seeing her in. Glancing down, Hawke noticed she walked barefoot.

"You both made it! Happy Spring!" She rested a hand each on Hawke's and Varric's shoulders, smiling to them both unguardedly. She met Merrill's gaze then and her eyes widened from remembering something. "Lethallan! Have you checked on the roast?!"

Merrill gasped and clutched at Lyra's arm. "Ah, by Sylaise, I forgot! I'll go now!"

With that she took off towards the stalls, and Lyra chuckled, meeting the two overwhelmed gazes of her two friends. "You've come at the right time; soon the main feast will begin. Come, I need a drink."

They turned and followed her to the stand with barrels, Varric almost shouting over the music and talk. "Robin, I'll catch up later; I have business I need to take care of before I drink too much."

Lyra nodded and waved him off, and her blue greens found Hawke's gaze, hers almost as overwhelmed as his were.

"It's good to see you. How was the Viscount's?"

"Ah, splendid," he winked at her, as they refilled their cups with more golden liquor. "I'm glad to be here."

They thanked the elf handling the barrels, and they naturally retracted towards the edge of the quarter so that they would more easily be able to hear each other. They stood a little farther away from the main festivities, the music low in the background.

"All is well, for the time being?" she asked, sipping her mead and speaking in a lower voice now that they could speak normally. Hawke sipped his mead as well and nodded.

"Aye, the peace will hold, for now."

She relaxed some and gave him a meaningful smile, their talk of city affairs meaning more now after their talk last night. She reached over her shoulder and absently pulled out the arrow from her quiver, still impaled through the green apple. She looked over the party in front of them, bringing the apple to her lips and taking a bite.

"Alright, I have to ask. The cantaloupe? And the apple?" Hawke caught her sheepish smile, and she nodded, her eyes lighting up for her explanation.

"It's something I learned, about the land we live on, and its relationship to the sun above. The sun and the moon appear as spheres; perfectly round, the sun so far away but so powerful it must be unimaginably massive." she held up the apple with the arrow through the center, and she placed her fingertip on the smooth green skin. "Why not the ground we live on, belong to a giant sphere, as well? It makes sense, for the sun rises in the East and sets in the West, it must make a symmetric trip around down below us to be able to rise in the East again. We are a speck, a tiny spot on this apple, and the day and night cycle is one sphere revolving around the other."

She paused and smiled at the apple, before meeting his eyes. "I learned this from a book I found, when running through the Ferelden Circle." She sobered, looking off into the distance, as she always did when speaking of her time during the Blight. "If you've heard much about the fall of the Ferelden Circle, we had not the time to peruse. We fought tooth and nail to escape the abominations and shades, and I thank my luck every day that we were able to save as many mages in there as possible." She met his eyes. "I saved a few books from the libraries in there, and one of them happened to be on the science of astronomy, the study of the stars, and our place among them."

She took another bite from the apple, and Hawke spoke. "I haven't thought much about what lies beyond our skies, or beyond the sun and moon. How humbling, to think about it all." he frowned, and voiced a question. "But how can we know, does the sun revolve around the earth, or the earth around the sun?"

Lyra smiled and nodded, a spark in her eye. "Yes, it is quite puzzling! It is when thinking about the seasons that it helps put it all in a certain frame of reference." She held up the apple, with the arrow stuck down through the middle. "If we were, here," she pointed to a spot on the lower half of the apple, "and the sun were fixed where you are, the day would be one complete rotation around the arrow." She spun the apple slowly, and Hawke envisioned the night when they were faced away, dawn when the spot came round, and day when the sun shone directly on the spot. "But what is a season? Why are some rotations, hotter, or, _closer_ to the sun than others? It is when there is a _tilt_!"

She exclaimed happily, tilting the arrow slightly away from him. He blinked, and she continued rotating the apple. "Here, the spot it closer to the sun, and has a longer time to see the sun, as in summer." She tilted the arrow the other way. "Here, the spot is farther away from the sun, and the days are shorter, for winter." She righted the arrow to be perpendicular to the ground, and she met his gaze with her excited one. "This, is us today; the Equinox, the middle day between the two Solstices. The turning from one tilt, to the other, the change from winter, to summer. The Spring Equinox."

Hawke shook his head slightly, a small smile breaking his face. _How incredible._ "You learned all this, from a random book you found, while running from abominations and shades?"

Lyra chuckled and lightly pushed him. "Yes, it all sounds quite radical, I know." she shook her head as well, her eyes smiling, curious and energetic. "And the book wasn't even complete; half the text was _burned_. I can't fathom all the knowledge in a single bookshelf in a Circle, let alone in the entire Circle itself." she drank from her mead, a blush showing on her cheekbones from getting worked up. "And I realize; all the Circles can't even communicate with one another! They each must have their own bases of knowledge and scholars and scientists, but the mages there are confined as prisoners so they may not even _share_ the great work they've had to devote their lives to." she shook her head angrily, throwing her hands up. "It's madness!"

Hawke stared at her and burst out laughing, and she pushed him but laughed as well, covering her mouth in embarrassment. "Damn it, you, you've caught me ranting once again, please stop me when I get like this," she groaned to herself, glaring at him with a smile. Hawke shook his head, eyes twinkling in mirth.

"No, please don't _stop_ , I was quite enjoying myself-!"

"Agh!" she smacked his shoulder, flower hair tossing, cheeks blushing, and not just from the alcohol. He laughed until his stomach hurt, and continued to tease her until they could barely breathe and she was yelling and shoving the apple towards him, forcing him to eat it.

The mead was sweet and strong, the sunset ended into night, and the music grew to faster jigs. They settled slightly as the quarter became even _more_ crowded, with more and more people joining the festivities after getting home from work. The talk and laughter swelled along with the music, and soon the smell of roasting food wafted over the mass of bodies.

"Ah, do you smell that?" Lyra asked him, grabbing onto his arm and sniffing the air. He sniffed as well and his eyes widened from the strong scent of roasting boar, coupled with some strange and unfamiliar spices that tickled his nose but sent his mouth watering.

"By the _Divine_ , that smells heavenly," he met her gaze and found her hungry gaze similar, and they wandered together towards the smell.

Hawke had finished his second glass of mead and was feeling the touch of alcohol lightly playing along his senses; the candlelight exaggerated and provoking, the music and sound of people exhilarating. _I haven't been to a festival this size since Lothering_.

He followed Lyra closely through the crowd of mostly elves and a few humans and dwarves, her red hair and green dress standing out easily. They approached the stall providing drink, and next to it had emerged another stall just as big and just as busy, from where behind came the smell of cooking food. Lyra reached the table in front, and Hawke watched Merrill turn around and see them from behind the booth.

"You two! Be the first to try the roast!" she turned and cut off two slices of the hanging meat, and another elven woman held out two freshly baked flatbreads for her to place the meat in. Lyra and Hawke reached out and received the food eagerly, and Merrill leaned over the table slightly, meeting both of their eyes.

"I think Varric and Fenris are over in the far corner, playing Wicked Grace," she said quietly, and Lyra met Hawke's surprised eyes briefly. _Fenris is out?_ Merrill shared their surprise before continuing. "They've both had a bit to drink, and I know they can handle themselves, but I saw quite a lot of coin on that table last I glanced."

Hawke chuckled, nodding to her in understanding. "I'll go check on them; thanks, Merrill."

She waved to them before heading back to help ready the food, and Lyra placed a hand on Hawke's shoulder. He smiled down at her, gesturing to the far side of the quarter. "I'll do damage control; will I see you around here?"

She nodded and gave him a smile back. "Yes, we must dance, later. 'Tis not a complete Equinox without."

Hawke smiled sheepishly, butterflies threatening his stomach. "Oh, I don't know, I have only danced a little before…"

She shook her head before taking a bite of her roast, and she set off towards the center comotion, raising a hand and waving to him, eyes flashing over her shoulder mischievously. "I'll find you!"

Hawke chuckled nervously and shook himself before digging into his roast as well, taking a minute to just stand there and appreciate the incredible flavors. _Alright. Varric just got a huge promotion, Fenris is still getting over a hard break-up. I hope they haven't gambled away too much already!_

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The Dalish man peered over his hand of cards, narrowing his eyes at the three others at the table. Hawke blinked at him innocently, his skill of charm in full effect from the two empty glasses sitting in front of him. Fenris slouched next to him but was fully invested in the game, raising an eyebrow in impatience from their opponents' time of deliberation. Varric sat back with his feet on the table, nursing a drink in one hand and expertly fanning his cards in the other. Hawke's eyes flicked around, watching the three with a small smile.

Samros, their fourth Dalish player, threw his hand on the table, taking a chance and breaking the fragile tension in the air. The other three did as well, and there were groans and moans as everyone saw the result of that round.

"Fenedhis lasa!" Samros cried out in loss, Fenris scowled in bad luck, and Varric chuckled lightly, hiding a hiccup that only Hawke could pick up.

"Don't worry, lads, you'll just have to come to the Hanged Man and earn it all back!" he leaned over the table and clumsily slid the pile of earnings towards him, Fenris angrily downing his drink and Samros groaning.

"You're too good at this, Master dwarf, the Spring brings me no fortune this year," Samros grumbled, and Hawke chuckled, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Chin up, brother. Varric usually has strong luck in the early evening," he leaned closer to whisper in the man's pointed ear. "but the more you get him to drink, the sloppier his hands."

Samros met his gaze with raised eyebrows, looking back at Varric with more hope in his eyes. Fenris sighed, his cheeks and ears blushed, and stood from the table, slightly wobbly.

"I need more of this mead. Anyone else need a fill while I'm up?"

Varric and Samros handed him their tankards and Hawke gave him a smile in decline. "I'm broke. You three will have to find someone with coin to fill my seat."

With that he stood from the table pulled into a corner in the elven alienage, and waved to his drunk friends, thinking maybe this should be their last round before he cuts them off. He meandered towards the center tree, the throng of dancing people cheering at the end of a song, the band holding out the last chord of a song extra long for dramatic effect.

The people cheered and clapped as the band ended the song, and Hawke leaned against a lamppost, just enjoying the view of so many happy people.

 _Not something you see every day, this amount of fun and joy_.

Suddenly a voice shined out from the others, an alto female voice that started along with a lute. His eyes found the band, and in the middle of the instruments was, _Lyra_?

" _Come in, come in I'll do the best I can_

 _Come in, come in bring your whole bloody clan_

 _Take it slow and easy and I'll shake you by the hand_

 _Sit you down I'll treat you decent, I'm a Dalish man!"_

Her voice rang out through the alienage with a light and jolly tune, the band playing along with her and supporting her notes with notes of their own. Most of the elves seemed to recognize this song, and after the initial shouts and cheers they split into pairs and started dancing along the beat.

" _I've traveled East, I've traveled West, I've roamed from town to town_

 _I've cut the harvest down in Clare, met people of renown_

 _Wherever I went the welcome mat was always waiting me'_

 _So fill your glass along with us and Arlathan be free"_

Hawke watched her smile and nod to the musicians, her hair swaying as she clapped and tapped her bare foot to the beat, the look of such pure joy on her face lighting up her features like nothing else could.

" _Come in, come in I'll do the best I can_

 _Come in, come in bring your whole bloody clan_

 _Take it slow and easy and I'll shake you by the hand_

 _Sit you down I'll treat you decent, I'm a Dalish man!_

 _When I am gone some other place and my memories going dim_

 _Raise your glass and join the toast, invite the spirits in_

 _Then think about the good old times and you'll remember me_

 _When good old songs were roaring out and the porter flowing free"_

The sound of dozens of voices rising to join hers in singing the chorus sent goosebumps along Hawke's arms. He smiled to himself as he watched his friend, recognizing her Dalish accent slipping out.

" _Come in, come in I'll do the best I can_

 _Come in, come in bring your whole bloody clan_

 _Take it slow and easy and I'll shake you by the hand_

 _Sit you down I'll treat you decent, I'm a Dalish man!"_

As she finished the last note, the people of the alienage cheered and shouted, raising their cups to her. She clapped and cheered as well, bowing low for the dancing crowd before turning to talk to the musicians.

Hawke walked over to her as she and the band laughed, one of the elves getting up to give her a hug. They kissed each other on the cheek before she turned with a smile, her eyes rising and widening when they found his.

"Hawke! Have you come to dance?!" she asked excitedly, her eyes bright from the performance adrenaline high. He chuckled and raised his hands, shaking his head at her in disbelief.

"Lyra, since when can you _sing_?" he smiled at how her accent hadn't dropped yet. She waved him away and smiled sheepishly.

"Ah, the Dalish teach all their elflings how to hunt, but first you learn how to sing." she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the band. "And _you_ , must learn to _dance_!"

He lightly protested before she introduced him to the four musicians, made up of two Dalish elves and two alienage elves, all four nodding to him with smiles.

"My friends! Will you help me, play an easy jig for Hawke to dance to?"

Hawke felt a rush of adrenaline as he looked at her, feeling partly afraid and partly excited, and the band started playing a catchy tune that the people around him all recognized quickly. Lyra pulled him towards the dancing area, looking back at him with delighted eyes. "This one's quite simple; there's only three steps!"

Hawke shook his head and threw himself into the dance, his senses filled with the excitement, his movements led by a friend. He couldn't hide the smile that kept popping up on his face.

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" _Shit_ , he's heavier than he looks," Lyra groaned as she nearly buckled under the dead weight of a red headed dwarf, almost thankful for the cobblestone sticky with drying alcohol. She shifted his weight on her shoulders and stepped around a random table, cups and burnt out candles lying scattered all across the quarter. She strained her dulled hearing to make sure Hawke was behind her carrying the _other_ passed out companion, and they trudged their way through the chaos and party wreckage towards her hole in the wall. Only a few elves were left in the square, and from a guess looking up at the grey sky, Lyra would say they had an hour or two before sunrise.

She crouched low and laid Varric down outside her door, making sure his head didn't bang against the ground, and Hawke paused behind her, also dangerously swaying with Fenris passed out cold on his shoulders. _We probably shouldn't have had those few more drinks after dancing,_ she thought with a chuckle as she fished her keys out from the bottom of her quiver.

"I need _water_ ," Hawke mumbled behind her, and she nodded in agreement. Once she got the door open they each picked up their perspective charges and stumbled into her small apartment.

"Bed in the back room," she lead them into her single room that had her bed, and she and Hawke dumped their friends onto the mattress as nicely as they could in their own drunk states.

"Should probably, get their weapons," Hawke wiggled Fenris's broadsword out from under the elf, and Lyra unhooked Bianca from Varric's back before turning him over not too gracefully. They made their way back out into her main room, using the walls to lean on as well as each other, and Lyra went to the sink and drank directly from the faucet, manners be damned.

"May I?" Hawke asked as she wiped her mouth, and she chuckled and nodded, stepping back for him to do the same. She forced herself to move over to her couch and picked up one of the pillows, as well as the blanket lying on the top. She tossed the pillow on the ground next to the couch and made to lie down on it.

"You're not setting to sleep on the floor yourself," Hawke asked from behind her, and she waved him away.

"I'll be fine, I could sleep on hot coals and thorns right now for how tired I am."

"Please let me, it's the least I can do for crashing here," he placed a light hand on her shoulder, and she raised an eyebrow at him, hiding how nice his offer felt. _So kind and thoughtful, even when he's this drunk._

"My couch isn't much better, I'm afraid… I wish I could offer you a decent bed, but mine's covered in dead bodies," she joked, and he shook his head, looking at her, worried.

"I can't imagine you having to sleep on the ground next to me while I get the couch," he made to crouch next to her, as if to take the spot on the ground, his blues anxious as they pleaded with her. "I wouldn't feel right is all."

Lyra cocked her head at him, a smile finding its way on her face as a laugh started to bubble up in her. "Hawke I'm sure I've slept on the ground many more times than you in my life!"

He smiled as well but glared at her in his funny determination. "I wouldn't make it one more night!"

Lyra laughed brightly from his silliness and slapped his shoulder lightly. "Ridiculous!" she made to sit down on her blanket but suddenly his arm wound its way around her waist, tickling her. She squealed and laughed, and he gently pulled her up to the couch, his own chuckling growing. "Hawke!" she squirmed and lightly pounded her fist against his chest, glaring at him but unable to hide her smile, and he released her quickly, his blues shining at her in tease.

"I wouldn't be able to sleep!" he defended, and she laughed and shook her head, before he quickly lowered himself/fell onto her blanket on the ground below before she could stop him.

"Aedan Hawke, this is unnecessary!" she shook her head at him as he settled onto the thin blanket below him. She sighed dramatically and laid down as well, silently thankful for the cushions below her, and feeling the exhaustion begin to hit her. She looked to her side to see Hawke settle down similarly down below, his muscular arms hugging the pillow to his chest, his tired blues blinking open and meeting hers, looking at her with a curious light.

"Hearing my first name has made me think, in this whole past year, I've never asked you your full name."

She blinked and then cocked her head, shrugging. "I guess I hadn't thought to share. Not many would know my clan name around here." She smiled softly, her voice dipping into her accent once again. "I am Lanyra Lavellan."

Hawke questioned her with his eyes, intrigued. "Lanyra? Lyra is a nickname?"

She nodded, smiling from memory. "Aye, Lanyra is my given name. Once the Blight started the war and I left my clan, I spent most of my time with humans. 'Lyra' is a humanized version I just naturally adopted."

"Wow," he thought for a moment, hugging her pillow closer to his chest. His blues were light, and honest. "You could call me Aedan, if I could call you Lanyra?"

Lyra blinked for a moment, raising her head slightly to look at him better. _My name. I hadn't heard anyone call me that for a long time._ _It brings me back,_ she thought, but as she looked down at Hawke's open gaze, she smiled slightly. _I could get used to it._

"Alright," she nodded, giving him a smile. He nodded to her as well, and they both rested their heads, the tidal wave of fatigue washing over their bodies and making her limbs feel like lead. Her eyelids slid closed and her mind rejoiced at the rest. Hawke whispered softly, his voice fading along with their consciousnesses.

"Thank you, for tonight. Happy Spring, and good night, Lanyra."

Lyra smiled as she slipped away into bliss. "Somniar emma atish'an. Dream with peace, Aedan."


	10. Chapter 10

The softest chirping of a bird roused her, and she shifted as her consciousness came to, realizing she was not laying where she usually woke up from.

 _I seem to be making a habit of not sleeping in my own bed._

She opened her eyes and rested on her couch for a moment, turning her head and looking down to the floor below when she remembered she had guests.

Hawke slept peacefully on her floor, his shaggy black bangs growing longer past his eyebrows and into his eyes, his tunic stained with mead and only the Gods know what else from last night. She smiled and suppressed a chuckle from how he clung to her pillow in his sleep, the sight of such a large and powerful man holding on dearly to whatever object is closest when he falls asleep a common occurrence for this leader.

 _Quite a bit better than the glass pitchers you drunkenly find to snuggle with in the Hanged Man, Hawke._

Lyra blinked, remembering their mostly coherent conversation last night before they had passed out.

 _Aedan._

She sighed when the familiar pounding started a rhythm in her head from her hangover, and she thought for a moment before hesitantly raising a hand to her forehead. It was early, so it took her a minute to think about summoning her mana, the magic energy reluctant to swirl within her from how terrible her body felt. _We drank a shit ton last night. And danced a lot, and ate a lot._ The healing magic was slow but her hand flickered yellow, the energy seeping into her head and wiping away her headache like any injury.

 _Yes…_ She closed her eyes and smiled to herself, making a mental reminder to offer the same courtesy to the other three in her apartment who would inevitably have terrible headaches as well. _I really forgot how helpful magic is in everyday life._ But with the thought of her magic always came the wave of shame and guilt like cold metal in her stomach. _I don't know if I should offer to heal Fenris. I think I've pushed my luck far enough._

Lyra shook her head and willed herself to rise, focusing instead on her guests that would eventually wake and wanting to be a good hostess. She stood from the couch slowly, carefully stepping around Hawke still sleeping next to her, and strode silently the few meters to her kitchen.

Her hands beelined for a glass to fill with water without her thinking of it. _Why don't I ever drink water when we party?_

The softest sound from her bedroom made her ear prick, and she quickly got more glasses down from her cupboard.

She looked over her shoulder and froze slightly from the sight of a sleepy Fenris stumbling out of her bedroom, a hand shielding his eyes from the light. The sight triggered a recent memory of another morning she shared with him, vastly different from the one now.

 _His bed head is as consistent and hilarious as ever._

"Water?" she asked him in a whisper, and he lowered his hand to squint at her in pain. His tunic was lopsided and stained, his hair a mess, and he rubbed the back of his neck from an ache. His greens peered at her with the recent coolness in his gaze.

"Yes, thank you," he croaked, also in a whisper after glancing past her to see the sleeping Hawke. She handed him a glass and he drank it just like she had; desperately. He glanced around her apartment as she watched him hesitantly. _It pains me to be so formal; professional, with him. But I am incredibly lucky, he wishes to even speak with me._

"Varric and I, I got carried away with the gambling, and the drinking…" he started, looking up to meet her eyes briefly, regretfully. "I owe you an apology, needing… needing to be looked after, last night. I shouldn't have burdened you."

Lyra shook her head, giving him a small reassuring smile. "No, it is no problem. All of us have had those nights, me included. Hawke helped me make sure you and Varric were alright."

He nodded and looked away, rubbing his forehead before spying his sword by the door. "I'll have to thank Hawke later, then. Thank you, again." He bowed his head and made to leave, and Lyra's brows came together as she examined him; his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, his eyes narrowed in pain, his feet were slightly dragging and his face was pale from the effort. _He is not physically prepared to enter the sunlight and trek up to Hightown._

"Won't you stay for breakfast?" she asked him quickly, and he paused to glance at her in confusion. She hurriedly continued. "I have almost a dozen eggs, and some meat I can slice into bacon; enough to offer all four of us something to eat." she wrung her hands and gestured to their sleeping leader. "Will you travel to Hightown with Hawke, once I've been a proper friend and given you breakfast?"

He met her eyes and she watched the greens think over her words. He looked over at Hawke once again, and he sighed slightly, meeting her eyes once again to nod to her.

"I would really appreciate breakfast," he said quietly, turning to face her and a small bit of warmth entering his gaze. "I've nothing to eat at home, I lost all my coin last night to gambling, and I'm weak enough to be easily mugged along the way." he gestured, meeting her eyes and hesitantly letting the smallest half smile slip. "I also believe Hawke would no doubt complain to me later for not waiting for him."

Lyra smiled as well and suppressed a chuckle. "A mother hen does like to make a fuss," she joked softly, looking over affectionately at their leader and friend. "I worry, however; I do believe he has laid claim to my couch cushion in his arms."

Fenris let out a surprised snort, and she glanced at him with a quiet smile, sharing his chuckle in the muffled and peaceful morning stillness, the birds chirping softly outside. She turned and refilled their glasses with water, knowing to start a day of recovery with as much water as possible.

She reached up into her cupboard and took down a frying pan and spatula, and Fenris spoke softly from behind her.

"Allow me to help."

She nodded to him in thanks as she reached for the eggs and meat, and glanced to him thoughtfully, thankful and content to be able to simply cook next to him again.

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Hawke stirred awake, aware first of the hard floor below him. _I've grown soft; used to my mansion bed_. He then became aware of the smell of cooking breakfast, the scent warm and fresh and invigorating enough to make him raise his eyelids.

 _Bacon_ , he thought fervently, _and eggs?!_ The ceiling above him was unfamiliar but his mind quickly registered it to be the humble alienage abode of his companion Lyra. He blinked his heavy eyes. _She's Lanyra, now, to me._

He released the couch cushion he was hugging to his chest slowly, shifting slightly before raising his head. Pain shot through his skull the second the light from the window shone in his eyes, and he grunted, resting his head back on the ground.

"Does he stir?" he heard Lyra asked quietly, and he blinked his eyes open and raised his head and hand, waving to her in the kitchen. His eyes widened slightly from the sight of white hair and tattoos next to her, standing at the counter.

"Mornin'," Hawke croaked, and her blue greens smiled at him from under her brown tree tattoos and messy red hair. He smiled back and nodded to Fenris when the grumpy elf looked up from the eggs he was frying.

Lyra put down the plate she was holding, her brows coming together from the horrible sound that had been his voice. She brought a glass of water over to him as he sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and then his forehead.

"Water?" she asked as she knelt down at his side, and he smiled at her appreciatively, taking the glass from her. _Oh, bless._

"Are you Andraste herself?" he reached out and squeezed her shoulder, and she chuckled and shook her head at him. "I feel like I've lived a month in the deserts in Orlais." he drank from the glass like it was the last glass of water in the world.

Lyra noticed how he rubbed his forehead again. "Headache? Would you like me to heal that?"

Hawke blinked up at her, the simple movement causing stabs of pain into his brain, and felt overwhelmingly thankful from the mere thought that the pain from the hangover could be healed.

"Could you?!" he exclaimed, louder than he should have, and he winced from his own voice. She nodded and grinned, and slid her cool fingers under his bangs, resting her palm lightly on his forehead. He looked back and forth between her eyes as she concentrated, and a feeling like cool water rushing through hot stones simmered through his head, the healing energy soothing away the throbbing ache and leaving him feeling cleansed and clear.

"Lanyra, _thank you_ ," he breathed in relief, and Lyra chuckled bashfully from his earnesty, waving away his thanks. She stood and took his empty glass from him, meeting his eyes and pausing from seeing his nonverbal question. _Fenris?_ She glanced over to elf, frying eggs at her stove, and her eyes flew back to meet his meaningfully, shrugging her shoulders with a lost and cautious smile. He discerned her message; _I'm not sure where we are, but I'm glad he's here._

He nodded and accepted her hand reaching down to help him up, making his way slowly off the floor.

"Crick in your back from sleeping on the floor?" she asked him with a smile, one wicked eyebrow up. He beamed at her, eyes twinkling in mischief.

"Yeah, it sure would have been nice to sleep on a couch-"

"Agh!" she pushed him, making him stumble, and he laughed brightly as she glared at him. They made their way to the kitchen, Fenris glancing up from the eggs to raise an eyebrow at them.

"You're both too loud," he complained, squinting before turning his focus back to the cooking. Hawke leaned against the counter, and Lyra walked past them to her bedroom.

"I'm going to check on Varric," she murmured, and Hawke watched her slip into her bedroom silently. He stepped to the counter next to Fenris, and reached for a knife to slice up the meat. He glanced over to the grumpy elf.

"It's nice to see you doing such civilian, mundane tasks sometimes, Fenris," he said lightly, to which he felt a suspicious glare before he grinned cheekily down to his companion.

"What are you on about now, Hawke," Fenris grumbled as Hawke shrugged aloofly and began slicing the meat.

"I must say I've seen more hearts being ripped out of chests, than I've seen eggs being cracked, by your hand, if you can believe that," Hawke rambled happily and Fenris rolled his eyes with a _tch_.

"Much more out of you and you'll _see_ a heart ripped out of a chest," Fenris grumbled and Hawke snickered, though when he glanced down at the elf his frown had lessened considerably. Hawke reached over and threw a couple slices of meat onto the frying pan and Fenris began tending to them with the spatula. Hawke's tone sobered and he asked an honest question.

"I was surprised last night; you and Varric, of all people, are the two of my friends who knows their alcohol limits better than anyone. Should I be worried?"

Fenris stayed silent for a moment as he flipped the bacon, the sizzling sounds and the smell sending their stomachs grumbling. "You don't need to worry about me, Hawke. You know the last month's been a bit rough; I'm just working through some things." he pushed the cooking bacon to one side to make room for Hawke to throw some more slices in. "Varric's okay too; it's normal for him to try his best to drink himself to death when something remotely good happens." Hawke chuckled in agreement as he held out a plate for Fenris to put the cooked bacon.

"Alright, alright. You know I can't help but worry about you all." They finished cooking up all the meat and Fenris flopped the bacon onto Hawke's plate.

Hawke glanced down to meet wicked green eyes from under white bangs. Fenris raised an eyebrow and suppressed a smile. "You always get your bloomers in a twist, Hawke. I never thought I would find such a doting mother."

Hawke laughed happily and swayed to bump into Fenris merrilly, holding up the plate of bacon and saying in a sing songy voice. "I can't help it, I never thought I would find so many glowing children!"

Lyra and Varric walked into a scene like from one of those old battle paintings; Fenris complaining with a scowl and swatting Hawke with a spatula, with Hawke laughing and shielding himself and a plate of bacon with his arms like it was a precious newborn child.

"Fuck it's too _early_ for this shit," Varric mumbled and leaned against Lyra for support as she led him to the kitchen. Lyra raised her brow at him and smiled down at him patiently.

"It's well past noon, Varric."

Hawke spotted them and perked up, setting the plate of bacon down carefully on the counter before striding towards to meet them with open arms.

"Varric, you're alive!" he engulfed the shorter man in a dramatic hug, making him let out a muffled yell.

"Hawke, sto-, you stink like booze!"

Lyra chuckled as the two struggled, and she moved to help finish preparing the breakfast. Soon she somehow herded them all to settle down around her tiny table, cramped into her small space but none of them mad for it, all with large glasses of water, full plates, and lingering hangovers.

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Dozens of eyes drilled into him, from all directions. Hawke suppressed a shiver as he led his companions through the gate to the Qunari compound. He nodded to the gate guard who he had become familiar with after his few visits the past couple years, the battle-ready qunari warrior painted in fierce red patterns like the rest of them.

The four of them were exhausted; they had just spent the entire night running around and fighting in the bowels of the city, and none of them had had any proper rest for the last two days.

Hawke breathed in deeply as the Arishok came into view. The horned leader sat on his bench with full authority, his black eyes rising to meet with Hawke's immediately. Hawke nodded to him in greeting, feeling his companions keep close behind him.

 _I still can't believe that damned Templar and those fanatics killed the qunari. And the best person the Viscount has to mediate the relationship with the Arishok is_ _ **me**_.

"Arishok," Hawke greeted him, looking up the steps in the secluded compound.

"Hawke," the Arishok nodded as well, his voice deep and domineering as always. "Can you explain what happened to my envoy?"

"Yes," Hawke began, regarding the Arishok grimly. "Your men were ambushed and held captive by a rogue Templar and his fanatic following. We came too late, and the Templar killed them in his madness."

The Arishok let out a sigh, and asked him in an even tone. "And the wounds on their bodies?"

Hawke closed his eyes, anger suffusing his expression. "They were tortured, and maimed, before they were murdered. We made short work of the fanatics responsible, and the Viscount has assured me he will take measures to discipline the sympathizers."

The Arishok nodded and sat back, and regarded Hawke calmly. "I understand. I am not surprised."

Hawke blinked and asked him curiously. "You're not angry?"

"No." The Arishok waved his hand, dismissing the city around him. "I expected nothing better from this rot-filled city. The weakness that persists and is permitted here is nothing new to my eyes." he gestured to Hawke. "You are the only one I have encountered here who has shown true strength, which you proved by admitting to what happened to my men. But ultimately none of it _matters_ ," he growled, anger building in his eyes. "...because we are _stuck_ in this polluted _perversion_ of a city until we find what was stolen."

He stood from his bench angrily, stalking to the side to glare at the wall. He breathed for a moment, calming himself, and Hawke spoke calmly.

"That's not the understanding of the Viscount. He seems to think your stay here is more temporary, or that you're well on your way recovering what was stolen from you."

"If only it were so," the Arishok clenched his hands into fists, turning his head to regard Hawke. "These years here in this festering waste has been punishing. Tell your Viscount we want away from here as much as he wants it. Your people here live like _animals_ , selfish, greedy, indulgent. Even so, indoctrination was not my purpose here; we were to find the tome, and finally be able to return to Par Vollen."

The Arishok fumed for a moment while Hawke thought, a faint pang in his chest from hearing the honest words. He sighed, and spoke lightly. "That is the sharpest ache; wanting to return to your homeland, but not being able to." he looked up and met the Arishok's gaze squarely.

The large qunari stared at him for a moment, looking him over thoughtfully before he sat back down on his seat, leaning an elbow on an armored knee.

"Tell me, how can you stay here, Hawke. Amongst the filth; the corruption. Why don't you leave this place?" he scowled, but looked up for an answer.

Hawke let a short chuckle out, a corner of his mouth lifting. "Yeah, Kirkwall really is a shithole," he glanced behind him and smiled to his companions; Varric and Anders nodding along begrudgingly, Lyra giving him a soft smile from under her hood. He turned his gaze back to the Arishok, determination creating confidence. "But it's _my_ shithole. It's a place of opportunity, a place of hope for a lot of us refugees fleeing from somewhere that was way _worse_. And it's a place where I met some of the most incredible people in my life."

The Arishok shook his head slightly, but seemed somewhat satisfied from the answer. "I'll take that answer, from you, Hawke." he sat back slightly, regarding his companions and then nodding to him with a look of dismissal. "Leave me, now. And see to it that your Viscount understands the severity of the situation."

Hawke sobered and bowed slightly, retreating from the steps with his friends, and leaving the tension of the space.

They all took in deep breaths and sighed from relief once they left the gate of the compound, as they always did after dealing with the qunari. Varric ran a hand down his face.

"Shit that's always intense. I need a drink, and then I need to sleep for the rest of the day," Varric angled himself towards the Hanged Man.

Anders rubbed his eyes but stepped next to the dwarf. "Same, Varric. What a night." the two glanced up to Hawke, and he smiled at them tiredly.

"You two have fun; I can't start morning drinking again, I'd never recover from that. Thank you both, always for your work. You deserve a fucking rest."

The two men looked over to the hooded elf standing next to them quietly, used to Lyra joining in on drinking. She raised her hood a bit and gave them smiles. "You two go ahead; I could pass out any minute now. I'll pop in the Hanged Man sooner or later."

They nodded and waved before they headed through Lowtown, and Hawke turned to his companion. _She's been off, for the last day_ , he thought as he noticed her tired eyes, but also the unusual slump in her shoulders. They had been running and fighting straight for the last half day he hadn't had a chance to ask her until now. He asked her gently.

"Are you doing alright, Lanyra? You know, other than the fact that we haven't sat down or eaten in the last full day?"

Her blue greens widened happily, as they have started doing every time he calls her by her full name. He suppressed a smile as hers faded, and she shook her head slightly, seeming to shrink a bit into herself.

"No, I've been, ah…" she fidgeted, suddenly unsure, and Hawke's brows came together as she found words. "I've, well, today is a sort of, hard anniversary for me, and I was wondering, I really don't want to, be alone tonight, and I figured, I still haven't cooked you that dinner I promised so long ago, and, -"

"Hey," Hawke stopped her gently, lightly laying a hand on her shoulder and bending down slightly to meet her eyes from under her hood. Her gaze held a host of complex emotions, and she looked at him worriedly. He shook his head. "No worries. Absolutely come over tonight. We can cook good food, _eat_ good food, get wine drunk! Hell I can paint your nails if you want, or we could tell ghost stories and roast marshmallows in my fireplace, because let me tell you I stole a bag of like fifty or so marshmallows from the capitol kitchens and I can make the darndest _perfect_ golden-brown roasted marsh-"

"Yes, okay," Lyra giggled and lightly pushed his arm to stop his tease, her brightness flashing in her grin. "Yes. Thank you." she nodded to herself, a great deal of weight lifting from her shoulders. "I plan to sleep until late afternoon at least, and make a quick hunting run. I've wanted to cook my favorite rabbit curry for ages, but my kitchen is just too small for what I need to do."

Hawke raised an eyebrow and faked a pout. "Oh I see, you just want me for my _kitchen_ ," he sighed dramatically and shook his head aloofly. "Come over and use me for my cookware, no one _ever_ wants me for my expert level marshmallow roasting abiliti-"

"Agh!" Lyra laughed and smacked his arm, and he grinned and shielded himself from her light blows. He chuckled at her as she huffed, and she glared at him with a smile. "I'll see you tonight, then. Be prepared to eat a lot; I intend to go all out for your authentic Dalish cuisine experience."

"Oh, wow. Now I feel like I should dress up or something," Hawke smiled cheekily as she began to walk off towards the alienage, her dark leather quickly blending into the morning shadows of the surrounding buildings. She looked over her shoulder at him, blue greens bright as she held up her middle finger to him, and then kissed it. He caught a second of her smile before she turned forward.

"Thank you, Aedan," her voice was soft as she trailed away, and Hawke just stood there for a moment, smiling.


	11. Chapter 11

Hawke whistled lightly to himself as he strolled through the grand corridor of the Kirkwall capitol building, feeling better as he distanced himself from the Viscount and his nobles. _Damn these stubborn elites. Of course there will be consequences for their actions._ He shook himself, willing all thoughts of work to dissipate from him, and replacing them easily with thoughts of dinner, his stomach rumbling.

 _Rabbit curry, hm?_ He smiled to himself, waving to a servant he recognized on his way to the kitchens. _What kind of wine would pair well with rabbit curry?_

"Afternoon, miss," he nodded to a maid who was coming up from the stairs down to the lower kitchen floors. Hawke's whistling echoed off the cramped walls of the darkly lit stairwell, plain and dirty as it was for only the service staff as opposed to the rich and decorated rooms of the capitol.

 _With the Maker's blessing, Olivia will be working tonight!_

Hawke entered into the bustling kitchen, rife with elves and humans cooking, cleaning, and preparing dishes, the noise of dozens of hurried voices and the clinking of pots and pans a constant drone. Hawke's sharp blues swept the place quickly, finally spotting the head chef over in the corner in front of the biggest pot Hawke had ever seen.

"'Scuse me, sorry," Hawke weaved around the working people, aware of his bulky and spiky armor that could easily bump into someone or their work and navigating his way carefully. The large, middle-aged elven woman turned and placed a hand on her hip, her apron smeared and her hair a frizzy mess, her kind brown eyes hardened by her suspicious look.

"Hawke! What are you doing back in my kitchens?!" Olivia raised her brows and kept up her glare, and Hawke bowed deeply when he approached her, the kitchen staff working around him without any time to spare him a glance.

"Madam Olivia! Your cooking always smells like I dream heaven might," Hawke smiled at her charmingly, and the older woman made a noise of protest in her throat, though he could see her chocolate gaze soften as she looked at him.

"You sneaky block. You wouldn't happen to know where that extra shipment of marshmallows ran off to?" she pointed her wooden spoon at him accusationally, and he held up both hands, feigning a look of innocence that couldn't conceal his cheeky grin.

"Madam I have no idea of what you speak! I would never rob our lawful noble men their scrumptious desserts!"

Olivia snorted into her hand, pointing with her wooden spoon up to the ceiling above, her eyes smiling wickedly. "These _poor_ men have had to go through their days with only _three_ courses for their supper instead of _four_. _How_ will they fare without their sweets?"

Hawke snickered as the older woman chuckled, the softness and kindness warming her brown gaze as she regarded him. "Oh, I've been meaning to send a boy to give you a message; about the matter with my girls, I don't know what you did, but that one lawmaker won't even _look_ at my maids now, much less put his hands where he shouldn't."

Hawke nodded discretely and gave her a small smile. "Good. That bastard deserved to get a little roughed up. Had to stop myself from giving him more than a few bruises and a bloody nose."

Olivia leaned on a hip, smiling at him meaningfully. "I mean it, Hawke. My girls can breathe again. You did good."

Hawke bowed his head, happy. "I'm so glad to hear it. Your maids should feel safe where they work."

Olivia patted his metal arm guard, meeting his eyes expectantly. "Now. What can I do for you? You've got five minutes before I have to start the stir fry."

Hawke brought his hands together sheepishly, looking at her hopefully. "I, well, my friend is coming over to cook me her homemade rabbit curry tonight, and I wonder what wine would pair well with it, if you had any thoughts?"

Olivia cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at him. She looked at him for a moment and he squirmed under her knowing gaze, before she huffed lightly, a smile tugging her smirk. "A _friend_ , eh? This the same Dalish girl that brought you to the Spring Equinox, the same one I hear so much about? You're having her over, she's cooking you a nice dinner, that you need some fine wine for I'm guessing? Sounds romantic," she nudged him with her elbow, and Hawke felt a warm blush shoot through him as he quickly shook his head.

"Ah, no, ah, just a friend, and yes just a nice dinner and some nice wine, well, you know, if Kirkwall kitchens could spare to misplace a bottle or two…?" he fumbled as Olivia's smile grew. She dismissed his refutal with a wave of her hand as she gestured for him to follow her to the cellar.

"Oh, sure, sure, just a friend," she said sarcastically, as she rolled her eyes at him and he stumbled after her awkwardly. "Rabbit curry, eh? And _Dalish_ rabbit curry, huh, you know they always like to spice everything up like they'll lose their taste buds tomorrow, so something sweet and fruity would probably be the best…" she trailed off as she led Hawke down into the dark cellar lined with cases and cases of aging wine.

"You're the absolute best, Madam Olivia," Hawke thanked her as she stopped near a stack of cases, bending down to read the label in the dim light.

"Ah-hah," she tapped a case near the bottom of the stack, and she lifted two or three cases from the top to reach her pick. "This, would be perfect." she dusted off the case before picking it up to hand to Hawke. "This is a _good_ year, too. Don't drink too fast, you hear me, or a fun night will turn to a not so fun night in a blink. Now," she met his gaze fiercely as she shoved the box into his arms, and Hawke stood up straighter, eyes wide as she gave him a _look_. "Mister, during your ' _non-romantic'_ dinner date, you will not do any funny business to that sweet girl while you're both drinking this good wine, yeah?" she raised an eyebrow at him as his ears turned red and his chest shuddered in embarrassment.

"Madam Olivia-! Please," he sputtered, clutching onto the wine case. "I swear-!"

"Good," she nodded and spun, striding towards the stairs out of the cellar as Hawke tried not to fall apart. _Sweet Maker, this woman._ He shook his head and swallowed as he followed the short older woman out of the cellar, holding on to a case of wine more expensive than the armor he wore on his body.

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 _Her screams, filling the dark room. The screams of pain, the screams of frustration, the screams of childbirth._

 _Childbirth. The birth, of her son._

 _Not my son._ Lyra thought darkly as she strung her bow. She had slept until late afternoon, the bloody sun on its decent as she walked briskly outside of the city.

 _I don't deserve to call him my son. I didn't care for him. I didn't raise him._ Her thoughts swirled like a violent storm, her brief sleep since this morning marred by intense nightmares of the night that happened three years ago, today. She trudged resolutely into the forest, head still in her nightmare. _I left him._

"Stop," she said out loud to herself, physically stopping in her tracks and closing her eyes. _Stop. I can't get wrapped up in the past. Breathe._ She opened her eyes, thoughts reigning in:

 _I won't be alone tonight._ She thought of sturdy arms, deep gentle voice, and soft blue eyes of a friend.

At once her shoulders dropped in relief, the lines on her face smoothed, and her breath came easier. _Aedan. I'll be alright._

Her eyes widened, suddenly remembering what she was even doing out here in the woods. _Rabbit curry! I must hunt!_

She shook off the rest of the anxiety stiffening her limbs, focusing fully on her surroundings. The trees had started to become thicker; she was far enough out, to find some game. She strolled silently, her leather boots padding on the forest ground without leaving a trace, and she spotted a patch of dense bushes up ahead. Engaging her mana briefly, she closed her eyes and kindled her nature magic, sensing without a doubt a dozen or so little life signatures hiding among the foliage. _Perfect._

She stopped where she was, fifty or so feet away from where she thought a burrow could be, and turned to the closest tree. She flexed her hands before quickly scaling the tree, eyes sharp on a thick branch fifteen or so feet up above. She climbed up, perching on the branch and assessing her immediate surroundings. Another tree with a set of sturdy branches stood 10 feet away; closer to where she wanted to go. She stilled herself, letting her heart rate rest, and concentrated on the spot where she wanted to grab on to. Engaging her thighs, she leapt over the gap, grabbing a hold onto the other tree and quickly pulling herself up to a place where she could perch.

 _This is a good spot_ , she thought to herself, surveying the ground below. The branch she crouched on only obscured part of her vision, and she felt jumping down from this height if she had to.

She then drew her bow and knocked a trusted arrow, fingering the fletchings and testing the bowstring. Mana, hesitant but comfortable, pooled into her being from the depths of her body, and she focused the energy into her forehead, closing her eyes to release it.

She let out a concussive force, the blast startling every living animal within a hundred foot radius of her, and her eyes flew open as her hands tightened around her bow.

Birds flew from the trees around her but she was focused on the ground, and _there,_ a dozen or so brown blurs jumped out of the bushes, running every which way in their fright. She released her arrow instinctively, and in less than a second drew another before releasing again.

The movement was over in a few seconds, the animals going back into hiding and the leaves settling from the rustle. Lyra breathed again, and smiled to herself, seeing her two arrows each stick out of a rabbit.

She dropped down onto the forest floor, sheathing her bow and drawing a hunting knife. _I've still got it._ Both rabbits were pierced through the head, instant and merciful kills that also left the meat untarnished.

She bent down, thinking to herself as she cleaned her kills. _Now to find some herbs, and then to run back home to grab my vegetables. Tonight will be good._

She sighed slightly and nodded to herself, feeling the thoughts of this anniversary begin to creep back into her mind, but the thought of Hawke held them at bay. _Tonight will be good._

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 _I'm early_ , Hawke thought to himself, walking down the streets to Lowtown as the sunset was just ending, knowing he shouldn't expect Lyra to be ready for dinner just yet but having to travel to the alienage for business with Merrill anyways. _I might as well walk back with her to Hightown when we're both done with our errands._

He frowned then, thinking of his business with Merrill. Her fascination with that old magic mirror had begun to worry him, and he had grown even more worried when she had asked him to come over and see something about it for himself.

Hawke sighed to himself as he turned the corner to the alienage, the streets now so familiar to him and a few of the neighbor faces recognizing him. He smiled to an elven man waving to him as he walked into the square, and then he blinked, realizing the man was only wearing a towel around his waist.

"Evening, Hawke!" he waved casually as he walked back to his hovel in nothing but sandals and a small towel, holding nothing but a rag and a bottle of something. Hawke shook himself at the strange sight, remembering the new public plumbing system Lyra had set up and figuring the man had just been washing himself. He turned his attention towards the center of the square then as he entered it, the giant tree in the center ever present. But behind it, where the new shower had been built, Hawke stopped in his tracks as his eyes widened.

A mass of people were gathered around the spigit, the air around the area steaming with heat, with over forty people easily, and nearly all of them were naked.

 _By the divine…?_

Hawke walked slowly, blinking to make sure he was seeing this right. A large group of people were casually washing themselves, some with buckets, taking turns gathering water and using the shower, most as nude as the day they were born. Men, women, children, older people, all people of all shapes and sizes went about their business washing, a lull of casual conversation reaching his blushing ears.

"Wha…?" he shook his head disbelievingly, knowing the city guard would never allow such public displays of nudity, but quickly remembering that the guard avoided the elven alienage as much as they avoided Darktown.

"Hawke?" he blinked as he watched one of the naked bodies in the mass of naked bodies walk towards him, and it took him some effort to focus his eyes. When he did, however, he sucked in a breath and quickly covered his eyes.

"Ah, Merrill!" he laughed nervously, looking away and shielding his eyes with a hand.

"Hawke you could make it today! I was thinking you'd come by tomorrow…" she said lightly before realizing Hawke's reaction. "Hawke? Are you alright? You...oh!" she sounded surprised, and Hawke glanced to her face between his fingers to see her surprised face, her short hair wet and her hands moving to wrap her towel around herself. "Sorry, Hawke, I must've forgot you were human, I've just learned recently that not everyone just washes themselves together, I was quite surprised when they said humans have such an aversion to having no clothes on," she rambled happily, and Hawke chuckled forcefully, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah, yes, I'm sorry too for my cultural bias, you just took me by surprise, it's my bad," he wrung his hands and tried not to look at all the naked people behind her, focusing intently on her face. "You ready to show me that mirror?"

"Yes!" she nodded, eyes wide, and then glanced behind her, thinking. "Yes, let me just let Lyra know, I'm sure her mana can handle it alone." she blinked at him and then clarified herself. "Oh, Lyra and I have started a strange, community tradition now, since we started casting heating magic on the water so we can have hot water when we bathe, and the neighbors caught wind and soon enough everyone comes to shower when one of us is showering so they can use the hot water!"

Hawke blinked at her helplessly as she rambled, and felt his chest constrict when he heard her voice from the center of the wet bodies.

"Aedan! Did you find some wine?"

His eyes instinctively flew to where her voice was walking towards them, blushed skin on taught muscles and curves that were lined all along with sprawling tattoos, a towel letting down wet red hair that framed bright blue-green eyes-

"Sweet Andraste," Hawke yelped, quickly averting his gaze as his face flushed bright in embarrassment. He crossed his arms in a desperate effort to keep his chest from exploding, and he stammered out a response. "Ah, yes, yes, I, I found wine."

He stood there steaming, wishing he could just take off running, desperately reigning in thoughts. _Lush, cream skin, flushed from the heat, steam rising from the dark brown lines running down over her hips…_

"Lyra, I forgot too, Hawke's a _human_ ," Merrill nudged her lightly, and Hawke cleared his throat, determinedly collecting himself. He glanced up to catch Lyra finishing wrapping her towel around her as well, and made the mistake of raising his gaze to meet her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, under a raised eyebrow, that smiled at him in a way that told him she was enjoying his embarrassment thoroughly.

"A human? We accept all here, Merrill. Hawke could bathe with us too, if he wanted," she said nonchalantly, and Hawke gave her an exasperated look, his eyes begging her _please stop._

"I, I appreciate it, I'm okay," he shook his hands, and Merrill laughed lightly, charmed by his reactions.

"Hawke it's all just skin, isn't it? We all have skin, yeah?" she giggled at his silliness, and he huffed and fumbled, angrily trying to defend himself.

"I've just, I've never had to see so much, so many people all at once, okay," he groaned in protest, his two friends teasing him as _he_ was the one fully clothed.

"Will your business take long?" Lyra asked, blessedly changing the subject. Hawke shook his head, looking to Merrill for an answer.

"No, I'll borrow Hawke for half an hour at most, do you mind holding the spell by yourself until everyone's finished washing?" Merrill asked her, and Lyra shook her head with a smile.

"Not at all, I think everyone's close to finishing." she met Hawke's eyes. "I just need to wrap up the meat and grab my ingredients, and then we're ready," her smile widened, her eyes bright as she looked up at him, so much so Hawke couldn't help but smile back at her. _She looks so excited_. Lyra exclaimed, "I can't wait to cook my curry!"

Hawke nodded to her with a smile, and then followed Merrill back to her small little corner in the quarter, finally feeling the heat leave his cheeks. _Maker preserve me. I need to get my feelings in check._

Merrill led him into her hovel, the apartment two small rooms with nothing but a few pieces of furniture. Hawke sat down at her little table as Merrill slipped into her room to dress, his thoughts swirling in his head.

 _Can she tell? Lanyra is one of the most perceptive people I know, she_ _ **must**_ _be able to sense how anxious I've been. And why have I felt so anxious? Am I so eager to move on from my relationship with Isabela, am I really so flippant? Am I still in the rebounding mode? What even_ _ **is**_ _rebounding; I care so much for Lanyra as a friend, as a companion, almost as a mentor, she's been here for me when I've needed someone the most, I've felt more comfortable and hopeful since spending more time with her but is that the same as developing feelings for her?_

Hawke was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't hear Merrill approach.

"Do you fancy Lyra?"

Hawke nearly fell out of his chair and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. "Maker, Merrill," he gave her a look, watching her expression catch up to the social cues in a usual Merrill-like fashion.

"Oh! That was a bit blunt, wasn't it?" she quickly apologized, and Hawke sighed and gave her a smile, chuckling slightly as she came to sit next to him on the only other chair she owned.

"It's quite alright, Merrill; truthfully the question shouldn't have caught me so off guard." he slumped slightly in the chair, averting his gaze and frowning to himself. _I'm afraid… I'm afraid, I_ _ **do**_ _fancy her._ "I...I don't know." He looked up quickly with wide eyes. "She didn't say anything to you, did she?"

Merrill blinked at him and then laughed lightly, shaking her head at his fluster. "No, I was just wondering," she gave him a curious smile, continuing on even though Hawke was blushing. "It's been a few months since you and Lyra were with Isabela and Fenris; I don't really know when it's an alright time to find another in the city life. The Dalish courtship is...shall we say, more weighty? Crucial?"

Hawke cleared his throat, chuckling awkwardly. "Ah, yes, well, I guess it depends, on the nature of the relationship? Some people will wait years before finding another partner; some only wait a month. And others find someone new the next day."

"Really?" Merrill looked surprised, and Hawke nodded thoughtfully. _And that's what is so confusing for me, Merrill. I've only had a few relationships in my past, and they were all pretty spread apart._

"Yes. Do the Dalish usually wait a long time before finding another partner?"

Merrill nodded. "Usually, yes. There's not so much, 'dating', like small matters, but we strive to find our bond-mate for which to spend the rest of our lives with. If it doesn't work out with a potential bond-mate, we usually wait a few seasons before searching for another."

Hawke nodded, interested. "Have you ever had a bond-mate, Merrill?"

"Me?! Oh no!" Merrill shook her head and held up her hands, and Hawke smiled and raised a brow.

"No? None of the young Dalish bucks or does catch your eye?"

" _Hawke_ ," Merrill groaned, and Hawke chuckled, successfully changing the subject from himself. Merrill stood from the table and gestured towards her other room. "Enough, let me show you what I asked you here for. I know you're probably eager to return to your hovel with a certain red-head."

Hawke coughed abruptly, then looked up at her with widened eyes to catch her knowing smile. _Damn. Am I really that obvious?_

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Hawke left Merrill's little home with a furrowed brow. _That mirror. I do not have a good feeling about it._ The sun had set; the last of its rays were giving him enough light to see the alienage by. He quickly glanced to his right and physically sighed in relief that there were no more naked people washing.

 _It's coupled with the fact that Merrill hasn't told Lyra about the mirror yet. She is closer to her than to me; I'd think Merrill would have confided in Lyra, a Dalish sister, about the elven mirror, before me. Could she worry that Lyra would be even more suspicious of the magic mirror, and that's why she hasn't told her?_

"Are you ready?" Lyra asked in front of him, and Hawke jumped slightly at her voice. She walked up to him with a casual tunic and trousers on, with only a small curved knife on her belt. Her wet hair had been braided down her back, and she carried a bag slung over a shoulder. Her eyes smiled at him. "Sorry to sneak up on you."

"I was far too distracted," he shook his head and returned her smile, gesturing for them to start towards the stairs leading out of the alienage. He looked down at her beside him. "You have all the ingredients you need?"

She perked up and nodded. "Yes, the meat is freshly skinned and salted, and the vegetables are of high quality. I have my full spice arsenal with me and I don't think you're _ready_ ," she patted her bag, barely masking her excitement.

Hawke chuckled, raising a brow at her, but seeing, underneath the excitement, the sag in her shoulders and the way the light didn't quite fill her eyes. _When she asked to cook in my kitchen, she was really asking to not be alone tonight. She mentioned today being a hard anniversary for her._

"Yeah, the only spice I grew up on was salt. Your spicy cuisine will probably kill me, to be honest," he said aloofly, and Lyra laughed, brushing his arm.

They walked for a moment, and before Hawke could ask her, Lyra began, her voice low and uncertain.

"So, I… three years ago, today, I gave birth to the prince of Ferelden."

Hawke blinked, quickly reminding himself of the epic story that was her life before Kirkwall. _Of course, she would have given birth 9 to 10 months after the slaying of the Archdemon, since the inception was the night before, and the anniversary for the end of the Blight is around 3 months away._

Hawke looked down at her as they walked, her expression controlled, but her eyes sad. "I just can't help but think about, what he… how he's doing. What he looks like." she closed her eyes and sighed forlornly. "I know I shouldn't dwell. He has two amazing parents; the King is an oaf sometimes but I know he's a good father, and the Queen, she was kind to me in the end, and I know she loves my- the prince," Lyra frowned, stopping herself from calling him 'my son'.

Hawke wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked, and she rested her head against his shoulder, accepting the comfort easily. He sighed as well, knowing there was no way he could understand what she feeling, but wanting to convey to her that he cared.

"Three year old. I think I held my first wooden sword at three years." Hawke murmured softly, and glancing down at his shoulder he saw Lyra smile.

"My first practice bow. At three I knew all the songs of my people. All the stories." she raised her head and looked up at him as they made their way into Hightown, her blue-greens searching his with a lost look. "I knew the entire history of my people by three years old. The prince..." she looked down, thoughtful. "Does the prince know about his elven heritage. _Should_ he know, if he has two wonderful human parents, if the Dalish never do anything for him anyways. And what if he's a _mage_ …"

She shook her head, expression disoriented, hands wringing themselves unsurely. Hawke squeezed her shoulder, getting her attention, and waiting for her eyes to focus on his before speaking gently.

"Will you tell me about when you first discovered you had magic?"

Lyra blinked at him, and then let out a breath, nodding. "Of course. I was, I think four? I'm not sure," she breathed in deeply as she collected her thoughts, and Hawke could see her calm herself, centering her focus and grounding herself. Her mind left the street they were walking on, flying off to a far away place. "My magic showed when I was young, younger than most. My affinity is for the elements, rather than the mental or spiritual arts the Dalish celebrate more. I remember accidentally setting a bush on fire when I watched a mantis catch and eat a butterfly."

"Wow," Hawke murmured, thoughtful, trying to imagine Lyra as a young girl, without tattoos. "Reminds me of Bethany. I remember when her magic showed, she was five. We were all terrified," he chuckled lightly.

She nodded, her smile coming easily. "My Keeper was so happy; my clan threw a party that night, in honor of my discovery." they walked for a while, and as Hawke looked down at her, she smiled thoughtfully. "One thing the Dalish are really good at is teaching the right mindset for bearing the burden of magic. It's never about control, or battling your desires; it's more about, living in harmony with your inner energies and maintaining a balance. That way, they never build up out of control, and we bypass the struggle circle mages face with harnessing a wild source of mana." She closed her eyes. "I hadn't touched my mana supply for _years_. But I still maintain my meditations, and my mind and spirit remain relatively at peace, so I do not feel a danger to myself or those around me."

Hawke nodded, everything she was saying making sense. _It's that way she has about her; the calmness, she retains through meditation. Of course it would transfer to one's ability to manage and work with their magic._

"That's incredible, Lanyra. Anders would love to hear about that; proper and healthy education for mages can be learned from the Dalish, not the Circles."

She smiled and winked at him, before resting her head on his shoulder again. "You're so skillful, Aedan. At making me feel better." her voice lowered slightly, and honesty shone through her voice. "There's no one else I'd rather spend today with."

Warmth seeped through his core, and hope blossomed like tendrils of light through his body. His arm just naturally rested upon her shoulders, a little bud of pleasant tightness forming in gut from the naturalness of how their bodies aligned and leaned against each other as they walked. Hawke turned his head and whispered to her, his lips brushing her hair on the top of her head.

"You want to know a secret?"

She started at the closeness of his voice, before looking up at him with widened, curious eyes. Her cheeks reddened from the intimacy, their faces close. He smiled at her, and before he lost the nerve, leaned in even closer so that he could whisper in her ear. "You bring me the calm I need, to silence my storms."

He raised his head and looked ahead of them quickly, willing his heart to not beat quite so fast. _She smells like softwood and flowers._ He looked ahead but didn't see the street in front of them. He felt her head rest on his shoulder again.

"I could say the same about you."


	12. Chapter 12

**It's been a hot minute since I updated, my apologies! Summer A semester has had me in the library for more hours that I can count, but my classes are almost finished so I should have more time to write.**

 **Thank you for your patience and your support, it means a lot to me. This chapter is a little longer, I hope you enjoy!**

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The Hawke mansion stood tall among the Hightown villas, the looming structure in the darkening evening a familiar welcome for its owner and his elven friend. Hawke reached into his belt and stuck the ornate gold key into his front door, glancing to the brightest blue-green eyes beside him.

"Alright; fire first, wine second," Hawke murmured as he held his front door open for his companion. She slipped into the dark building, the only light the faint lingering sun peaking through the tall windows. His mansion was dark, silent, and empty, his mother on some trip to distant friends in Orlais.

Hawke unclipped the harness on his chest holding the two-handed sword to his back, the weight a noticeable difference off his shoulders as he placed it onto his weapon stand in the foyer. He went to work on the many clasps and buckles holding together all his armor, and glanced up as Lyra walked further into his home, glancing over her shoulder to catch his gaze.

"I'll light the fire," she offered, and he nodded, hurrying to rid himself of the many layers of metal plates on his body, battered from use. He heard her snap her fingers around the corner by the fireplace and an instant fire lit up the space into light, his house now illuminated for them to see. He glanced up to see her long red braid sway along her back; her tunic and cut-off trousers plain and comfortable and her boots somehow already off, giving him a glimpse at the tattoos that spread down her legs.

 _She's a better hostess than I, in my own home._ His mouth twitched in a smile, eyes caught briefly on how the chestnut tattoos gracing her forehead and spiraling around her forearms happened to be highlighted by the firelight angle. He blinked up to meet her curious gaze feeling his stare, and he glanced away quickly, focusing on getting his last piece of armor off. _Maker her eyes are stunning._

"Wine's in the kitchen," he called over to her as he slid his last grieve off his leg hurriedly, throwing the piece unceremoniously onto his entry table before walking to join her.

"Oh," he heard her say softly to herself as he joined her in his kitchen, her back facing him as she stood near the counter. She turned to look at him, her blue-greens wide, her hands hovering a few inches away from the case in reverence. "Aedan this is _old_."

"Yeah," he grinned at her, joining her at the counter and lighting a hand on the back of her shoulder, happy memories of his mother figure friend who gave him this gift. He pulled out a bottle from the case, Lyra brushing his hand as she received it from him. "My friend in the Capitol kitchens said the nobles could do without."

Lyra gasped jokingly, giving him a look that barely masked her smile. "You wouldn't tell me you _stole_ this fine wine from our very own city government," she asked as she procured a knife and stabbed the tip into the cork of a bottle. Hawke's grin widened and he leaned forward to hold the bottle steady for her, his voice the sound of innocence.

"Oh of _course_ not, my Lady," he held the bottle down on the counter as she uncorked it, the loud pop sound satisfying, but not as satisfying as the quiet giggle he elected from her. He looked down at her from where he stood above her side, his arm still around her holding the bottle. She blinked up at him, her cheeks blushing softly from how close they were, his insides tingling from how she returned his grin. He cocked his head, giving her a broad smile, and teased quietly. "My dear, you are in the presence of a lawful gentleman!"

"Well, I knew that," she winked smoothly as she reached up to his cupboards and got two wine glasses down, and Hawke poured them each a _generous_ serving of the deep red liquid.

They stood together at the counter as they each took a glass, raising it to the other.

"To spice," Lyra cocked her head at him challengingly, her eyes smiling mischievously with her toast. _Her spicy curry will kill me, won't it?_ Hawke breathed in deeply, letting out a hard sigh and raising his glass to meet hers, nodding and raising an eyebrow to her meaningfully.

"To _mercy_ ," he begged, giving her a look that said, _have mercy on the mild tongues_. They shared a smile as they tasted their wine, Lyra's eyes widening at him and Hawke straightening up abruptly in shock.

 _Shit this stuff is strong._

"Wow," Lyra murmured while raising the back of her hand to her mouth to hide her fluster, setting the glass down and glancing up to him with appreciation. Hawke nodded to her, eagerly taking another sip.

"I may not be able to handle spice but I sure as hell can handle my booze," he chuckled to himself, and Lyra's brow rose again, a curious spark in her eye.

"Can you, now?" she asked aloofly, turning to reach for her pack with her cooking ingredients. Hawke looked at her as she reached up again to his cupboards to get his pot and pan, her hands practiced and her eyes flashing him with a curious glint. He stared until she returned his gaze unfalteringly, and the corner of his mouth rose with an eyebrow as he downed his full glass in a few gulps, her sharp eyes still locked onto his like the huntress she was.

"It's why I brought a whole _case_ ," he started calmly, leaning and reaching forward to grab the bottle, causing her to lean back slightly in surprise when he brushed into her. "I thought we'd probably go through a few bottles, at least. Am I correct, my Lady?"

She cocked her head but her smile flashed at him, her eyes regarding him that barely masked excitement. She brought her glass to her lips and downed her wine as well. "I do believe you are, Master Hawke. I trust you can continue this pace of drinking, and still slice vegetables without cutting any fingers?"

Hawke cocked his head back at her, having a hard time keeping his gaze from falling to look at her full lips, smiling at him so subtly. He locked eyes with her as he poured her another glass, then bowed to her chivalrously, looking up to her and catching her blush. "I am at your disposal, Chef."

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"Wait, okay, Aedan, please explain it to me once more," Lyra scrunched her face in confusion as she studied the tiny white cylinder of sugar gelatin. Hawke held a few marshmallows in his hands, the two of them sitting on the floor in front of his couch, their empty curry plates set to the side and their wine glasses well worn.

"These," he held them up for her to see, "are the beginning to the absolute, most incredible, awe-inspiring, life-changing dessert you've ever experienced. I pass this Hawke family tradition down from my father's family." he bumped into her slightly, balance slightly off from the many glasses of wine coursing through his veins. Lyra 'hmphed' doubtedly, bright eyes under dark tattoos glancing up to search his.

"But I may not taste it, just yet? It needs to be cooked?"

"Yes," Hawke grabbed his wine and scooted over to the fireplace, beckoning her eagerly for her to follow, her own wine glass in hand. "The true magic lies in the _roasting_."

Lyra cocked her head interestedly as she joined him at the foot of the fire, tucking her feet under her and sitting forward to watch him prepare his talked-up treat. He procured thin metal rods meant for kabobs, and skewered his marshmallow onto the tip. He drank from his glass before gaining her attention.

"This is the skillful part. To make the perfectly roasted marshmallow, one must aim more for the coals rather than the flames, for the coals are hotter and will melt the inside into a melty gooey _goodness_. Turn it slowly, like this," he demonstrated rotating the marshmallow, his concentration fully on his work, watching the edges turn a beautiful golden brown, carefully turning it at the precise speed-

"Ah _shit_ ," Lyra cursed, and Hawke glanced over quickly to see her retract her own skewered marshmallow from the fire's flames, the poor sugar blob caught on fire like a torch and blackening fast.

"Ah, Maker!" Hawke exclaimed, going to help her blow the flaming marshmallow out, leaving a charred black blob. Dismay overtook him and he clutched at his heart, voice full of mourning. "Blessed _be_ , this poor marshmallow!" he needed a moment of silence but before he could blink Lyra tentatively brought the overcooked marshmallow to her lips and took a bite.

Her face lit up and her blue greens looked at him so happily, her smile utterly beautiful. "This is good!"

Hawke breathed in sharply, distressed and appalled. "Heavens _forbid_!"

He snatched the rod from her, pointing to his finished browned marshmallow exasperatedly. " _This_ is a good marshmallow, not that charred tragedy! If my father could see me now he'd _roll about_ in his grave!"

Lyra burst out laughing as Hawke fumbled with the marshmallows, trying to get Lyra to eat his and on the verge of tears from how she ate the rest of the blackened one without hesitation.

"It's still good, silly! Here!" Lyra quickly grabbed and burned another marshmallow, twinkling eyes looking at him over her shoulder and laughing in mirth from his reactions. Hawke yelped, reaching out and wrapping an arm around her waist from behind to pull her and the marshmallow she was offending away from the fire. She laughed brightly, playing against his funny defense of the marshmallows.

"The horror!" Hawke cried, his arm tight around her stomach, gripping her waist and pulling her lightly so the backs of her shoulders fell against his chest. He moaned in lament and buried his face into her hair as she laughed and struggled. "The sacrilege, the anguish!" his voice was muffled from her hair, and she squirmed from the tickling.

"Aedan!" Lyra laughed and tried to wriggle free, her hand clutching onto his arm wrapped around her stomach, but without any sense of urgency to remove it. She giggled and rested back into his embrace after a moment, and Hawke was buried in the scent of her hair again, so close to his nose; pinewood, herbs, flowers, wine. _Comfort. Kindness. Safety. Beauty._

"Maker," he whispered, warmth trickling through him, arms tightening to hold her a little closer. _To feel her, in my arms like this…_

"Forgive me, Aedan," Lyra laughed breathily, voice a low whisper, her pulse quick where he could feel it. Hawke turned his face a degree, nuzzling her hair at the crook of her neck. She rested her weight back into him further, her head lolling back to rest upon Hawke's broad shoulder... _hair unveiling her jawline, baring her collarbone_...

His drunken mind barely registered what he was doing, and it was a battle for his mind to think anything other than, _Lanyra, I'm losing myself…_

His nose brushed her neck, and he registered her shiver everywhere he touched her, heard her slight intake of breath, felt her soft fingers caress his forearm...

 _Shit._ Hawke grasped at the strings of control, freezing as a memory forced itself into his mind.

" _You will not do any funny business to that sweet girl while you're both drinking this good wine, yeah?"_

The image of Olivia's raised eyebrow seared itself into Hawke's mind and he blinked his eyes open, his grip lessening on her waist and his face retracting from her.

"I, forgive me Lanyra," he swallowed and released his hold around her, reigning in his thoughts as quickly as he could, the fact she wasn't hurrying to sit up from how she rested against his chest causing his will to _shudder_. "I'm so drunk," he whispered with a desperate chuckle, ignoring the tight want in his chest. _Pull yourself together._

Lyra chuckled as well as she straightened up and blinked her brights at him over her shoulder, her smile light and her hand coming up to run through her hair. "I'm drunk, too," she chuckled again, unworried and giving him such a smile he felt his ribs melt into jelly. "I'm sorry I ruined your marshmallows."

"Oh," he let out a hard laugh, shaking his head at her quickly and smiling. "No, it's alright, I haven't given up on you yet."

"I'm glad," she closed her eyes and smiled, before bringing a hand up to cover her yawn. "Gods I'm tired. Home-cooked meal is a sedative."

"I'll say," he agreed, glancing up to his couch. _We've fallen asleep there before. Together._

He shook images of her head resting on his shoulder away when she spoke up, voice low.

"I'll try not to fall asleep on you again," she was looking at the couch too, and Hawke blinked at her, speaking without thinking.

"I just as much fell asleep on you last time. I don't mind, in the slightest."

Her eyes found his, the colors shimmering in the flickering firelight. He blinked from fear, but she only looked at him with understanding.

"I'm quite comfortable around you, Aedan." she gave him the smallest smile, her words honest, her meaning pure. "It's no surprise to me, I find sleep around you easily."

A weight seemed to fall off his shoulders, his breathing coming easier. Hawke faced her and nodded, relief coloring his words. "I feel the same. I hadn't thought I could feel so well rested, by sleeping next to you."

The fright he felt from his vulnerability held his lungs suspended. But as he looked into her eyes he met only softness and encouragement.

"It is a common practice, among the Dalish," she began, voice light and colored with sleepiness. "Often, back with my clan, I would share a tent with my hunting partner Tamlen when we were traveling through shemlen lands. All we did was sleep next to each other, but we slept well, knowing we had the other's back."

Hawke nodded, understanding. _The Dalish_ would _share platonic sleeping arrangements for safety._ "It makes sense, when you are out travelling, or in danger." Hawke looked at the fire. "I still felt safer, even in my own home, though."

"I did too."

He glanced and met her eyes, and he felt himself relax and the tension leave his shoulders. She seemed to be thinking about something, and then she chuckled to herself, but averted her eyes.

"Would it be strange, to ask you, to fall asleep on the couch again?" she frowned at herself. "I just, don't know how well I'll be able to sleep tonight by myself, but, I know you, have your own bed, and I can just grab the couch if…" she looked away in embarrassment but Hawke breathed in relief.

He felt his heart leap, thankful she was thinking of the same thing, and recognizing her asking to not be alone. _I've distracted her from this hard anniversary so far; I wouldn't want to be alone either._

"It would not be strange, to fall asleep on the couch again," he started, and she met his eyes, hopeful. He breathed in. "Would it be strange to reason, if we are going to sleep somewhere, why sleep on the couch?"

She met his eyes with her widened ones, but she hid her surprise pretty well. "No, it would only be logical to sleep somewhere more comfortable."

His heart beat faster, but he kept his face passive. "Only logical."

They looked at each other for a few moments, both repeating to their drunken selves that they really had just in fact, came to the conclusion that they would share his bed tonight. He watched a slight blush color her cheeks, and she wrung her hands and spoke without meeting his eyes.

"I do not, however, wish to make you uncomfortable. I am aware that most people don't, well, that the Dalish are the only ones who share sleeping spots."

"Not at all," he said quickly. "I was worried about making _you_ feel uncomfortable."

She met his eyes without hesitation. "I don't believe that's possible."

He blinked at her, fully aware of how beautiful she looked in the firelight, and too drunk and too tired to tell himself otherwise. "I believe the same."

A smile broke on her face, and he swallowed before bracing himself to stand. "Shall we, my Lady?" he stood from the floor, only a little wobbly, but steady enough to reach down and offer her a hand. She took it and stood up as well, the two of them holding on to each other to keep steady.

"We shall," she chuckled lightly as they took a few steps at a time, traversing his main room to the doorway leading to the master bedroom. The master room was grand, with tall windows and a four-post King-sized bed, and Hawke fussed to get them out of the dark.

"One moment," he murmured as they walked into his room, striding over to the candles he kept on his bedside.

"Let me," Lyra offered, snapping her fingers and lighting the candles instantly, to which Hawke raised his brows at her.

"Drunken fire magic; watch the beard," he teased, earning him a light smirk.

"Maybe you could use the hair cut," Lyra winked at him, and he blanched jokingly.

"How can I sleep _now_ , knowing my hair's a disaster?"

Lyra laughed happily as Hawke went to his side of the bed. He pulled the thick blanket and sheets back, glancing up to see Lyra tentatively do the same on the other side.

"I've never slept in a bed this big before," she said reverently as they each slipped into their sides. Hawke smiled to himself, already feeling the soft linen pull him to sleep.

"It's almost _too_ big," he said without thinking, and blinked before looking up quickly to see her raised eyebrow over her shoulder as she sat on the other side of the bed. He continued hurriedly. "Ah, I mean, this house in general is huge, gets quite lonely; quiet," he cleared his throat not too smoothly, drunken mind stumbling.

"I would get lonely, too," Lyra said thoughtfully as they each settled, the flickering candlelight inviting more sleepiness.

Hawke shimmied into the sheets, glancing over to her do the same, and falling into a stare when she started to unbraid her long hair; the red strands falling in waves over her shoulders and rustling as she ran her fingers through. Hawke blinked to himself and settled lying down as she did the same, the two a few feet apart.

Lyra turned to lie on her side, facing him. "What do you have on your plate for tomorrow?"

He turned on his side as well, facing her, and he thought. "I have a meeting with some mercenaries to gain information about a potential slave trade hideout in the mountains, around midday. After that, I need to beat Varric in cards. It's dangerous when his ego goes unchecked for this long."

"Definitely. He is due for a good beating."

"You have plans tomorrow?" Hawke asked quietly with a smile.

"I have a meeting with the Viscount. I made an entire presentation on exactly why and how they should provide me funding for my plans for improving the quality of living in the alienage, and in turn, the rest of Kirkwall. It surprises me they don't have an engineer or something on staff for structural improvements of the city."

"Ever thought of giving up the life of crime to become an engineer?"

"Often. There's not enough flare, though, working behind a desk. I'd also look pretty strange among the bare-faced humans. I think I've had my fill, getting involved in a human government."

He looked at her seriously for her reaction, but she only smiled at him with soft eyes. He nodded, understanding her, and appreciating how easy it was for her to dissolve any tension.

"That dinner tonight, was heavenly. I tasted spices I had never tried before."

"Fresh, from the mountains, smoked for the unique flavor." A thought seemed to form, and he saw it flit across her smile. "I can write down the recipes."

He looked at her, and smiled. _That's what she said to me, that night those many months ago, the first time she slept over._ "I'd rather you just come over more."

Her smile grew and she closed her eyes, and nodded, seeming to snuggle slightly into the blankets. He watched her breathe steadily, and the soft sound of her breath helped him unwind further. "Could I cook for you in return, tomorrow night?"

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Absolutely." A corner of her smile lifted. "After you put Varric back in his place?"

"After that, yes."

She nodded, and turned back onto her back. She closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply, and he watched her sink into the mattress comfortably. "I usually don't dream, ever since my time in the Fade in the Ferelden Circle." she continued to breathe steadily, and just the sight of her helped him relax. "But I've been dreaming more, recently."

He watched her. "What do you dream of?"

"I dreamt of my forest, back home. I dreamt of the large bonfire we would build in the dead of winter, when the snow was thick and our seasonal celebrations were approaching. My whole clan would gather around, and share the heat. It was my favorite time of the year."

He turned on his back as well, and closed his eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like, to live in a community like that.

"Will you tell me more about it?" He asked her, his eyes closed. He could hear her smile in her response, as she proceeded to describe how tall the fire reached, how the stars looked in the night sky, and how many people would gather around, sharing warmth, and sharing stories. She told him about the smell of the fresh pines mixing with smoke and cooking spices. She painted a beautiful picture as her voice drifted into sleepiness, and the last thing he remembered hearing was about the group prayers they sang, how voices high and low, young and old, joined together as one to give thanks.

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" _And another thing! I'll remind you that none of us would even_ be _here if it wasn't for this Grey Warden's leadership and tact, so she has more authority and expertise to speak on this than_ you _, Arl, or_ you _, my Lady," Alistair yelled behind them as he held the ornate metal door open with one hand, the other hand on Lyra's lower back. They were exiting one of the grand war rooms in the Ferelden capitol building, the King angry and flustered and his elven mistress 8 months pregnant._

" _Alistair, it's alright," Lyra tried to hush him, trying to wipe away all evidence of the tears on her cheeks, one hand coming to hold her stomach and the other grasping the arm Alistair was offering her for support. She looked up at the red face of her fellow Grey Warden and King, her mind a violent battle; one side wanting to go back in there and tell the nobles a piece of her mind, the other just wanting to sit down she was so tired. "I need to rest anyways, my head…"_

 _Lyra swayed slightly as a familiar wave of pain gripped her forehead and weakened her knees, and she clutched onto the stable arm of her armored King for support. He stopped and looked down at her worriedly before looking up to glance around for the closest guest room. "Of course. Here," he lead her into a room a few elven maids were cleaning, the young women curtsying and leaving them immediately._

 _Alistair lead Lyra to the side of the bed and helped her sit down on the half-made sheets, the rest a relief for the very pregnant elf. "Thank you," Lyra whispered as her eyes closed, riding the wave of pain that rippled through her body and blossomed in her head. She let out a hard breath, trying desperately to compose herself from the emotional duress from the meeting and the extreme discomfort her body was feeling._

" _Can you believe the nerve of that man?!" Alistair swore angrily as he rubbed her back comfortingly, shaking his head. "Every week the disrespect they have for you grows. How_ dare _he suggest that you belong anywhere other than the very lands you_ liberated _, how_ dare _he call you a…" he faltered, turning his attention to tending to Lyra breathing deeply through her painful contraction._

" _Alistair you must go back in there," Lyra said between breaths, hiding the amount of pain she was in and looking up to meet the eyes of her friend. "They cannot go unattended for long; I don't trust what might be said if you aren't there."_

" _They-!" he stopped himself from yelling by standing from the bed and going to poke his head out the doorway of the guest room, calling for a servant. He received a goblet of water from a maid who left with instructions to draw Lyra a warm bath. The King stayed standing, and began pacing around the room, the sharp blue-green eyes following him from where she sat on the bed, hiding how much she was struggling._ This pain is so great, I feel my vision wavering...

" _What they're saying, Alistair, is horrible, but…" she breathed in deeply, his soft brown eyes glancing up to meet hers with brows drawn. "But it's common practice in other countries. And other countries, have less to cover up."_

 _Alistair scoffed, shaking his head. "No, Ferelden is_ not _weaker because…" he stopped pacing and faced her, his eyes looking between hers with a lost look and his voice lowering. "Our child would only be considered a bastard because I married Anora. And I only did_ that _because of the same reasons, to appease the public, to strengthen the throne…"_

" _The nobles, are vile," Lyra began, trying to reason with him, and knowing this subject was so personal to him. "But they represent the opinion of the people, and they are right; if we have a son, and I lay claim to him… he would not only be a bastard, Alistair, he would be a_ half elven _bastard. To officiate that would strip him of the right to ever become King, the right to even further your line, the right to nobility, the right to own_ property _in some areas, the right to-"_

" _I_ know _, I know," Alistair retorted, fists clenching. "And a bastard to a_ King _who's also a bastard looks even weaker, I know. But they can't ask you to give up your child, that's, that's…" he shook his head and looked at her exasperatedly. "Lyra you can't be thinking any of this is a good idea. I don't_ care _what the people think; not all the humans of Ferelden hold the same prejudice against elves, I'm not ashamed of our child."_

" _I know that lethallin, and neither am I," Lyra said gently, her own brows together in pain, her confusion and her fear swirling within her as she rubbed her belly protectively. "I just want what's best for them, I just don't-" she gripped the sheets on either side of her, frustration and anguish building so much her tears returned. "I just don't want, our child, to have to face this court, its nobles and its people like I have had to face them… Alistair it would be easier, better for you, better for our child, better for everyone if I just…" Lyra's tears fell freely, her arms hugging her belly shakily, the fear for her unborn child gripping her unlike any fear she'd felt before._

" _No," Alistair came to her, gentle hands caressing her face, thumbs wiping away her tears. "No." He bent and kissed her forehead, shaking his head in denial. "I will not tolerate that, from anyone." he raised his head and looked over his shoulder as the maid returned, a bath towel in hand and another couple servants behind her ready to assist. Alistair held out a hand and Lyra took it, and he helped her to her feet, leading her slowly to the midwife who helped soothe her contractions. "Give her a warm bath, and any food she desires. Make sure she stays well hydrated," Alistair handed Lyra off to the servants after squeezing her hand and meeting her eyes. "I will finish up this meeting, and I'll see you later," he gave her a small smile before leaving, but the smile didn't reach his eyes; his gaze held too much worry._

 _Lyra let herself be tended to, thanking the servants and composing herself gracefully, while inside her thoughts roiled in a black storm of anxiety and pain._ I don't belong here… my child, my King, this country, is better off without…

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Lyra jolted awake, gasping loudly and choking on a sob, the darkness around her telling her it was a dream but the sheets she was tangled in unfamiliar, far too soft to be hers, _where am I-?!_

"Hey, Lanyra, you're safe," the familiar deep voice washed over her like cool water, her eyes finding his soft blues quickly and her hands instinctively reaching for him. _I'm, that's right, Aedan, we're sharing a sleeping spot, he's here, I'm safe, he's here…_

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her chest felt like she had ropes tightly bound around her, but she found stability in clutching the front of his shirt as she gathered her breath and waited for her heart to stop hammering. "I, I'm sorry, I…"

"It's okay," Hawke shushed her with a soothing voice, gently lighting a hand on her shoulder and meeting her eyes with his understanding ones. "Hey, I'm here."

Lyra let out another hard breath, nodding and collapsing slightly, using his arm as support and unclenching her fingers from his shirt. "Thank you, Aedan, thank you…"

"Nightmare?" he asked her in a low whisper, and she found his eyes again after finishing wiping hers so she could see him more clearly. His hair was the usual mess and his tunic was a bit lopsided, but his eyes looked between hers attentively, his thumb rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. The sight of him, his frame strong and sturdy and his eyes soft settled her nerves and grounded her racing heart. She nodded again and took a deep breath, giving him a small smile.

"Yes, it was…" she let out a breath and shook her head. "It was painfully real. Ever since, my time in the Fade those years ago, the few dreams I have now are shockingly accurate memories. To have to relive that moment exactly as it…" she let out a shaky sigh and raised a trembling hand to touch his arm, needing to feel that pillar of sturdiness. Hawke's arms came around her, and in a second she was engulfed in one of his incredible hugs, the sense of security she felt within his arms making her burrow further into the embrace he offered.

"Let's breathe, together?" he asked quietly while he held her, and she nodded, taking in a deep breath while he did the same, their chests expanding together and pressing against each other while her face found safety in the crook of his neck. They took a few deep breaths together, each one calming her heart that was beating so frantically against him, each one releasing the tension in her shoulders and letting gravity pull her to rest.

"Thank you, lethallin," Lyra whispered as they rested in the other's arms, her voice back to normal and her heart only beating slightly faster than normal from the intimacy. _I never want to leave his arms_ , she thought with a start, taking in his scent, feeling him stroke her hair softly.

"Lethallin?" he asked in a whisper, and Lyra nodded, her nose rubbing against his collarbone. She retracted a little to be able to look up and meet his blinking gaze.

"A trusted friend. A dear one." she gave him a small smile, and felt warm tingles from how his face lit up. She swallowed slightly, looking between his eyes, and saying quickly, "If you, wanted to call me such as well, a dear one who is female is 'lethallan'."

"Lethallan," he tried, feeling the word on his tongue, and nodding to himself, smiling into her eyes. "Lethallan."

Her heart shuddered when he said that to her, bright blues looking right into her eyes, his arms still holding her back and his voice still husky from being awakened. Lyra swallowed again, averting her eyes and apologizing in a soft voice.

"Forgive me, I woke you from your rest, I am alright now, thank you," she squeezed his arm where she held him, giving him a smile before he shook his head at her.

"No, there is nothing to forgive," he lightly squeezed her waist when he removed his arms, shifting back a few inches to give them each a little space. "Just as there's no need to thank me."

"Well," Lyra gave him a meaningful smile as they each shifted back to their perspective sides of the bed, "I am thankful, nonetheless."

They each settled back into the sheets, feeling the remaining night pull them back to sleep, both feeling a little lighter, both feeling warm.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, if you have any time I'd really appreciate a review if you can think of any suggestions, questions, or tips, I want to improve!**

 **Either way have a wonderful day and take care :)**


	13. Chapter 13

Birds chirped not too loudly, the crisp sounds stirring the sleepy human in his comfortable sheets. Hawke blinked his eyes open, seeing the top of his large bed's canopy in the soft blue morning light. He breathed in deeply, waking up gradually, like he was floating in a warm bath. _I'm well rested._

He stirred when he remembered the night previous, and that he was not alone in his bed. Turning his head he immediately saw the red hair, stark bright against the white sheets and peeking out from under the blanket. She was facing him, with her eyes closed and her face the image of pure bliss. She breathed steadily, a hand lying on the pillow next to her, and a strand of her hair was resting on her nose, crossing the lines of her Vallaslin. He smiled, and reached out a hand, gingerly moving the piece back behind her pointed ear. She remained asleep, to his relief, and he watched her for another moment.

 _She looks to be sleeping peacefully. I'm relieved, after her nightmare._

Flashes of memory of the dark night slipped through his mind and across his skin like tingles; the feeling of her reaching for him when she was afraid and knowing he was safe, fitting into his arms without doubt, with full trust, her heartbeat beating right next to his…

 _I came close, last night, after dinner_ , he thought, bringing a hand up to rub his face. _I came close to revealing my feelings for her._

He let out a hard sigh and looked over at the window to judge the time of the morning, and reasoned it was mid-morning from the brightness of the sun. _I still have a little time before I need to leave._

He slowly sat up in the bed, making sure not to disturb her, and got up, heading to the kitchen. He absently put on a pot of water to boil for tea, noting the hastily hacked open wine case on the counter and knowing there's empty wine bottles strewn from here in the kitchen to his fireplace that needed to be picked up. Hawke was lost in his thoughts, distracted by the scent of Dalish tea, that he jumped when he heard a voice from behind him.

"Wow, this'll be one for the stories."

Hawke spun, wide-eyed, and met the raised eyebrow of Varric, crossing his arms, standing in his entryway and surveying the mess of Hawke's and Lyra's night before. Hawke blinked, frozen, and Varric continued, slightly impressed.

"I mean, I saw it coming, and I've actually said you and Robin would work since the beginning, but _wow_ that was fast."

"Varric…?" Hawke asked, and then it hit him. The empty wine bottles and glasses were strewn about looking like an evening of fun, and the bedroom door was open, so that Varric could clearly glance in and see the redhead tangled in his sheets...

"Oh, oh no, Varric, it's not what it seems." He shook his head and held up his hands, chuckling awkwardly, and blushing hard. "Lyra only slept here last night, but we didn't… we're not…"

Varric raised an eyebrow. "No way, Hawke. Not even _you_ are that chaste, where you can sleep next to a beautiful woman, what, to just _sleep_ next to each other?"

Hawke frowned at him, heart beating fast. "Yes. To just share a sleeping space."

Varric's brows came together, but then he shook his head, chuckling as well. "Alright. If any of my friends can sleep together platonically, it's you two. But I would advise caution." Varric gave him a look. "The moody elf is fragile right now, at best, and I have some hard news to deliver him today. And I'm sure Isabela would have too much fun poisoning your food."

Hawke let out a hard sigh. "I understand. We hadn't really planned this or anything, we just got pretty drunk last night and figured, the bed's huge."

"And you were both _drunk_? Aye," Varric threw his hands up and shook his head. "You two are too sweet."

Hawke shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as Varric turned to the bedroom, just to see a very ruffled looking Lyra lean against the doorway, hair wild and rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Good morning, everyone. How are you doing, Var-..." her eyes widened and she straightened up, swallowing as her eyes registered what this looked like. "Varric? Uh, um," she met Hawke's eyes, her blue-greens worried.

"Good morning, sleepy," Varric started, grin tugging on his mischievous smile. "You two looked quite comfy in there together; didn't want to disturb the new couple."

"Ah! Varric, we-!" Lyra panicked and Hawke nudged Varric to stop, his own face still in full blush and his embarrassment turning his insides to jelly.

"Varric's just being an ass, don't listen to him," Hawke swallowed as well and came to her, giving her a comforting smile. She breathed out and blinked at him with her wide eyes before shaking her head at Varric.

"I was rather surprised, actually," Varric continued, smile twitching, "when Hawke told me you _hadn't_ , actually, and that you two only _slept_ next to each other, like-"

" _Varric_ ," Lyra groaned, hiding the lower half of her face with a hand to try and conceal her blush. "And to think I was going to offer to make you breakfast."

Varric's teasing grin dropped in a second, and fear entered his eyes, voice dropping in seriousness. "Wait, Robin," he took a step forward, hunger entering his gaze, mouth salivating. "I take it back. I take it all back."

Lyra laughed, the sound like the birds singing outside, eyes twinkling at his silliness. "I know you're a dwarf who can appreciate a savory breakfast to wake up your senses with a little spice."

Hawke chuckled. "More like kill your senses. Don't know if I'll recover in time from last night." He winked down cheekily at a pouting Lyra, her arms crossed and her expression aloof.

"Fine, then. I can make a nice bland version for your poor tongue."

"Can you make me a whole new tongue while you're at it?"

"I can rip _out_ your tongue, while I'm at it."

Hawke smiled brightly down at her and tried to hold in his laughter while she glared at him, her fist raising and twitching to hit his chest. Varric shook his head, hand coming to his forehead.

"Can you rip out my eyes first, please? And my ears? You two disgust me." the dwarf reached out and kindly held one of Lyra's hands, looking up and pleading with her. "Robin, I'd do anything for some of your spicy gourmet cuisine."

Lyra softened and returned his smile before glaring playfully towards the tall human, blue-greens sharp and deep, speaking to the dwarf but eyeing Hawke coyly. "Of course. Varric, love, _we_ can go to the kitchen and eat some delicious food, and leave this _ass_ with his flavorless tastes."

Hawke laughed heartily and held up his hands. "This is _my_ mansion!"

Varric looked from Hawke to Lyra and then shrugged, walking past the human and looking up to the elf. "Yeah, alright."

Lyra took Varric's arm and they walked to the kitchen, the elf padding on Hawke's expensive carpet, barefoot. Hawke spluttered and Lyra stuck her tongue out at him over her shoulder, before winking at him. He chuckled to himself and shook his head, his mouth unable to stop smiling. _I've got the best friends._

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"So Fenris has a sister?" Hawke whispered down to Varric, the two men and Lyra standing back in the bar, watching their angry white-haired friend from afar. Fenris's back was to them, but Hawke could see enough; the elf's shoulders tense, his fists clenched, his words curt and impatient as he shot questions at his sister. _He looks even worse than in the outskirts, when we found out Hadriana was in town._

"It wasn't hard to contact her, which surprised me," Varric whispered back, and just at that moment, Fenris straightened in shock, his face raising to look at the figures approaching from the top of the stairs.

"Danarius…" Fenris whispered, taking a step back, and then shooting a glare at his sister who was backing away slowly. "You...you led him here, you…"

"I'm sorry, Leto. It was the only way… he's going to make me his apprentice," his sister said evenly. Hawke, Varric, and Lyra alerted quickly and readied their stances as the magister and his lackeys approached, Hawke's brows narrowing on the sharp man and anger slowly building in his heart the longer he looked at him.

"My wolf," Danarius called casually as he approached them confidently, pale deadened eyes looking past to stare into Hawke's. "So this is your new master."

Anger shot through Hawke's body like scorching fire, and he glared at the man, yelling in response. "Fenris is a free man! He has no master, you bastard."

"I'll kill you," Fenris spoke in a small, low voice, his shoulders tight but his fists starting to shake. "I'm going to kill you, finally."

"Oh, come now," Danarius chided, cocking his head and giving him a condescending, disappointed look, causing Fenris to flinch. "That's not how you speak to me, wolf." his piercing gaze found Hawke's again, disregarding everything he and Fenris had just said. "I've come to make a deal with you, Master Hawke, perhaps compensate you for your loss. I trust you must have found my Fenris's services, well... _satisfying_?"

" _Shut your mouth, Danarius!_ " Fenris yelled, veins glowing in his rage, and Hawke unsheathed his giant broadsword, taking a menacing step forward and meeting Danarius's stare with his own, and thinking quickly.

 _Lyra is no longer next to me; she's blended into the shadows, hiding somewhere. She knows this will end in a fight._

"The only deal I'm making today is letting my friend decide how and when he's going to kill you," Hawke readied his stance, meeting the alarmed green eyes of Fenris and giving him a reassuring nod. "We're with you, Fenris."

"Are you sure?" Danarius motioned behind him and his lackeys started an approach, the four or five of them armed and ready. "I'm only reclaiming what's mine; I'm even offering to pay you." his cold gaze swept over to Fenris, nailing the elf in place. Fenris was shaking badly, his hand coming up to reach the hilt of his sword but his feet locked in place. "You've had your fun, Fenris. Now return to me."

Fenris seemed to harden, and pulled his sword out as well, shaking his head. "No. I will be _free_ of you."

Chaos erupted as the elf lunged towards the magister, and before Hawke could enter the fray a pair of pitched screams called from behind Danarius. They looked over to see two of his men collapse to the floor in a bloody mess, both with arrows through their necks. Hawke and Fenris used the distraction to quickly kill the other three lackeys while Varric kept Danarius busy with a hail of bolts, not giving the magister any time to cast a spell. The four converged onto the magister from all sides so quickly that the magister was overwhelmed, falling to the ground.

"Stop, wait-!" Danarius tried, raising a hand to try and stall, but Fenris let the lyrium in his veins glow the brightest as he held Danarius down by the neck with one hand and plunged his other into his chest.

The elf said nothing as he ripped Danarius's heart out with a grunt, crushing the organ in his grip and tossing the bloody remains on his dead body. He staggered to stand, backing away and processing the body of his former master.

"Have fun in hell," Hawke wiped his sword on the magister's robes before sheathing the giant weapon on his back and looking over his friends. Varric heaved a heavy sigh as Lyra emerged from the shadows, and then they all looked over to Fenris's sister, huddling in a corner.

"Leto," she let out a weak plea, eyes afraid. "Leto forgive me. I had to."

"No," Fenris whispered, looking over at her with disdain, shaking his head in disgust. "No you didn't. You're just like the rest of them."

Hawke watched his friend carefully, the rage still pulsing through the elf's mind.

"I'm sorry, Leto, I'm sorry…" she pleaded desperately, and Fenris snapped.

"Don't call me that!" he advanced on her angrily, causing her to cower further.

"Fenris," Hawke interrupted him with a firm voice, knowing his friend wasn't in his right mind. The elf shot him a look, a look that held all of his confusion, frustration, pain, and fear.

"She sold me out, Hawke! My own sister! I have _no one_ …" his resolve broke for a second, before anger instantly took over. "And of course, she did it for _magic_."

"Think about this," Hawke reasoned, voice understanding. "You'll regret it later."

"It's always about magic," Fenris continued while shaking his head, though he had stopped advancing on her. His eyes looked up to meet Hawke's, angry and lost, and then moved to meet Lyra's, the betrayal pinching old pains. "The people in my life…"

"We care about you, Fenris." Hawke lowered his voice, meeting his eyes with his firm ones. "You're not alone."

"Fenris," Lyra whispered, and Fenris looked over at her seriously, the anger slowly leaving his limbs like poison leaking out of a wound as he watched her cautiously. Lyra took a step forward, and then another, before gently reaching a hand out for him, her other hand raising her hood slightly so she could meet his eyes. He stared down at her hand for a moment, his fists gripping tightly in the last of his anger, Hawke and Varric approaching as well. Lyra reached out and grasped his hand, bringing it to her and enclosing it in both of her hands. His greens flew up to meet her eyes as she gave him a soft smile. "We are your friends." Hawke reached out and added his hands to hers, and so did Varric, the three holding on to him. "We would do anything for you."

Fenris began to shake, but now it originated from his chest and spread outwards until it reached his hands, the anger that kept his will strong, withering. He looked slightly overwhelmed from these three friends so close to him, and he raised his head and looked over, meeting the eyes of the sister that betrayed him.

"Get out," he rasped, looking at her long enough to make sure she understood before bowing his head to his friends again, the shaking in his limbs starting to overtake him. His sister slipped out quickly as his friends pulled him even closer, the tall broad arms of a human, slender arms of an elf, and short stocky arms of a dwarf reaching around to enclose Fenris in a four person embrace.

"Damn it, you all," Fenris whispered, engulfed and shaking, and the three held him in place long enough for him to gather himself.

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" _Lethallan_ ," Lyra whispered as she shied away from the mirror, her eyes alert as if she were facing an enemy. _This mirror...it can't be._ Merrill stood quickly from the chair in her apartment, struck in shock.

"Lyra?! You, ah, I didn't…" she took a few steps towards her friend, brows coming together. She looked at Lyra with a mix of panic, fear, and caution. "You usually knock."

"I felt," Lyra started, eyeing the mirror, uneasiness constricting her chest, "I felt something powerful here, when I was passing by. My ability to sense magic has strengthened since using it more, and…" Lyra tore her gaze from the tall ornate glass, meeting the eyes of her dear friend, and felt the sick tendrils of the dishonesty between them curl in her chest. "You know what this is."

"An eluvian," Merrill nodded determinedly, glancing to the ancient artifact in reverence for a moment, before returning her attention to Lyra, brows together defensively. "A relic of our People."

Lyra stayed silent for a moment, looking between her friend's eyes, and looking back to the mirror. Memories, hot and painful, threatened to slip into her mind, and it was all she could do to repress them.

Merrill began to pace, back and forth in front of the mirror, her small shoulders rising in irritation. "I feared, you wouldn't understand." her guarded greens found Lyra's, a hint of accusation in her words. "You left the People longer ago than I did. Do you no longer care for our history either, then? Like the rest of my clan?"

Lyra watched her, silently taking the hit of Merrill's accusation, her concern radiating the space between them. She swallowed. "This mirror does not offer us history. It offers only pain and danger." She took a step towards the agitated elf, trying to keep her tone composed. "Eluvians were used as communication devices; there were many, and we cannot know if anyone may be watching us right now through another one. They are so old that after a time they break, and some gain the same taint as darkspawn."

Merrill shook her head at her, her words laced with denial. "I know that. I _know_ they can be dangerous as everyone says, but so is everything we do! We can't hope to recover our history without taking risks!"

Lyra stayed silent for a moment, hands wringing themselves. Her voice dropped low. "This is why you kept this from me, lethallan? Because you knew, I would disapprove?"

Merrill stopped her pacing and sat down heavily on her chair, letting her head fall into her hands and rubbing her eyes, looking defeated. "I was afraid. That you'd cast me out for this _too_."

"Merrill…" Lyra approached her slowly, realizing she had been struggling with this mirror for some time. Merrill sighed heavily, looking resigned.

"Hawke won't help me either. I'll have to do this by myself, then."

"Do what?" Lyra asked quickly, glancing to the mirror and swearing she saw a shadow slither along the edge.

"Try and unlock its secrets. There _must_ be something, otherwise it wouldn't be so…"

Alarm deafened Lyra's ears, panic gripped her chest. Her voice rose a degree, her entire body alert.

"Merrill, do you not sense the foreboding aura coming from it? I feel it, like eyes watching me from behind, like an enemy about to strike…" Lyra clutched at her chest, breathing in deeply despite the constricting feeling from being so close to the dark magical presence.

Merrill eyed her sideways, speaking in a tone she had never used with Lyra before. "Dark, sure. Dark like me; like my blood magic."

"Dark, like _darkspawn_ ," Lyra argued quietly, coming to her, looking between her eyes and willing her to understand. "You know I don't judge you for your magic ways, Merrill, I never have. But this feeling is _different_ , it is the same feeling I felt day after day during the Blight, the same feeling that surged through me when I slayed the Archdemon…" she shook her head, looking at her friend determinedly, speaking passionately and with care lacing her words. "Your passion for our People inspires me, lethallan; you are one of my closest friends, you are my _sister_ and always will be. And so this dread I feel, my instincts tearing at me to protect my loved ones is so _strong_ right now I can't...," Lyra panted slightly, kneeling in front of where Merrill sat and looking up at her in anguish. " _Please trust me."_

Merrill sat stunned, eyes wide, never having seen her strong and experienced friend in such a state; kneeling, desperate, _begging_ , _protective_. Protective of _her_.

Merrill's greens welled up, her shoulders rising higher in emotion. "My clan, they, they're better off without me…" Merrill cried softly, her small hands twitching to hold Lyra's. "I just want, to give them something, a piece of our history, _something_ …"

"Please, Merrill," Lyra begged her, tears falling down her cheeks as well. "Not this mirror. Give back to your clan, but not this. Please, lethallan, _please_ , be safe. For me, and for everyone here that loves you," they clutched each others' hands, each crying, both just relieved to be with the other.

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Hawke jingled his keys absently, his head pounding from the long day. _Has my lock always been this difficult to open?_ He grunted to himself as he finally opened his mansion door, reminding himself his mother would soon return from her trip and thinking about-

"...once in a while?! As city guard captain I have to-"

"Oh _please_ , they can wait a few measly hours with their freedom, I'm in _danger_ , Aveline!"

Hawke blinked as he walked into his parlor to behold an agitated Aveline and a twitchy Isabela. Both women ignored him. Aveline sneered, tone laced with sarcasm.

"Oh, _danger_ , I'm sure, what do you have to worry about? Missing a sale on liquor or figuring out who the father is?"

" _Oh, you_ -!"

"Alright!" Hawke yelled, walking forward and forcing their attention away from clawing at each other, his voice strained. "It's great to see you two, care for some tea?"

"Hawke," Aveline started, approaching him determinedly. "We need to go to the docks. Two fugitive elves escaped our prisons and are hiding out with the Qunari, who are giving them sanctuary. We cannot let this slide; the safety and security of our city depends on it."

"I'm going to die!" Isabela cut in, the fear edging her voice causing Hawke to stop and look at her. She gripped her arms and chuckled humorlessly. "Now that I have your attention, I have a matter that's much more important than some runaways."

Hawke met the sharp eyes of his ex, immediately seeing the severity in her expression. He brushed away the feelings of discomfort and nodded to her. "What's happened?"

"It's here, the relic," she started, beginning to pace in front of his fireplace, anxious. "In this _city_ , and I'm not the only one looking for it. I need it, to give back to Castillion so he doesn't kill me, and they'll be in a Lowtown foundry tonight."

Hawke nodded, remembering the numerous burdens she carried, and frowning at the timing. "We'll help you get it, then. Aveline, can the guard handle the escaped fugitives? I've already pressed my luck with the Arishok too many times this week."

"The guard are responsible, you're right," Aveline sighed, but gave him a meaningful look. "And I've asked the Viscount. But he really made it seem like you should be the one to approach the Qunari." she glanced sideways to the other woman, adding, "And the relationship with the Qunari affects the safety of the whole _city_ , not just one woman."

Isabela turned slightly, raising her hands. "Well, maybe, my relic, and the Qunari, are, related. Somehow."

Hawke and Aveline stopped, both pairs of eyes looking at her. Aveline's voice lowered. "What?"

Isabela shrugged and hurried, "Listen, I'm just saying that recovering this damned book might help more people than just me if that's what you're worried about. It's in your best interest."

"Book?" Hawke asked, cocking his head at her, but keeping his voice quiet. Aveline scoffed.

"I thought you didn't know what the relic was!"

Isabela twitched, masking her desperation.

"Okay, I know it's a book. But it's in a foreign language; I can't read it. Just," she looked at Hawke, expression serious, looking at him longer than she had since their split. "I really need your help tonight. We _need_ to recover this thing, I promise it's more important."

Hawke let out a breath, reaching a hand up to rub his aching forehead, but nodding all the same. "Okay. Tonight. And then, we head to the compound to handle the fugitives."

"Thank you," Isabela breathed out, glancing at Aveline before walking out, excusing herself. Hawke met Aveline's gaze, the woman cautious and worried.

"You trust her?" she asked him, and Hawke gave her a look before closing his eyes.

"I trust her enough, yeah." he sat down heavily on his couch, waving to the guard captain as she left. His headache had returned, full and pounding.

 _Maker, I'm tired._

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"I'm sorry," Isabela began, meeting the three pairs of eyes who looked over at her. Varric holstered Bianca on his back, Lyra silently retrieved her arrows, and Hawke wiped some blood off his forehead. The Lowtown alley was quiet once again with fresh corpses of mages, mercenaries, and Qunari littering the street.

"The Qunari…" Hawke began, looking over the dead men he would have to tell the Arishok about. "...their relic, is the same as the one you're looking for. The same one… you stole."

"It is," Isabela said quietly, the pirate's eyes soft and serious. "I knew it the whole time; that the relic I stole and lost is the reason the Qunari are stranded here. The Tevinter mages probably want it to make the Qunari weak, since they are at war with each other, and Castillion wants it to repay my debt to him for letting all those slaves free."

They all stood in silence for a second, processing, and Varric finally broke it, his rough voice colored with worry. "Rivaini…"

"I should have told you," Isabela glanced to meet Hawke's eyes briefly, looking away. Her shoulders slumped an inch but she mustered some strength. "Please. Tell me you'll let me have the relic. It's the only thing that will get Castillion off my back."

Hawke felt the now familiar wave of dread overtake him, the weight dulling his senses. _This relic. The one thing that might solve the Qunari problem. The one thing that will save her life._

"It's yours. Your life depends on it." Hawke sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, then meeting her eyes with his tired ones. "We'll find a way to deal with the Qunari after, somehow."

Isabela straightened, slightly stunned. "Really?" she paused, looking to her companions. "I'm, surprised. To have someone, on my side."

"You have us," Lyra spoke from under her hood, raising her gaze to give her a smile. "We are in this together."

Isabela softened even more, her brows coming together. "Robin…" she met Hawke's gaze once more, looking at him with conviction and respect. "Okay. Let's do this."

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Fire was raining down on the city, the screams of women and children intermingled the clashing sounds of weapons and sounds of battle. Hawke ran through the streets in a daze, having lost count the number of qunari he killed, his armor, his sword, and his face covered in blood, with his companions close behind.

 _I failed_ , he thought to himself as he abruptly took a detour to a side street where he heard some closer screams, his friends spreading out. They sprinted towards a scene unraveling before him in slow motion… a family, hunkered together, pleading with two qunari warriors descending on them with axes, the father raising an arm to try to shield his family but the axe coming down and cutting him down where he stood, the other qunari raising his axe to slaughter the mother next-

Lyra yelled out in frustration next to him, loosing an arrow as they sprinted just in time to distract the qunari, giving Hawke enough time to-

Hawke roared as he drove his sword straight into the chest of one, the sick crunching of bones splitting and giving way to his steel as the warrior hissed his death cry. Fenris was close behind him, the two two-handed sword warriors quickly overwhelming any threat they faced on their way up the city.

Varric panted as he caught up, helping Lyra retrieve some arrows as Hawke just stood in shock and numbly watched the crying family huddle over the body of the fallen father. His blood slowly seeped out, flowing around the knees of the kneeling children.

 _All of this, I should have prevented. All of this, I couldn't stop…_

"Run away from here!" Fenris yelled at the family hurriedly, his voice breaking, the pain in his tone stirring Hawke slightly from his daze. The mother was trying to pull one of her children away from the body of the man, and the screams of agony, of despair, ripped through Hawke like a hail of arrows, nailing him down where he stood.

Varric picked up the child as gently as he could and handed him to the mother, both distraught. His voice was low. "Run to the lower city; it's safer there," he helped push them along, leaving the body of their loved one on the street.

 _I let this happen_ , Hawke stared at the body as his friends caught their breaths and readied themselves. Their gazes waited on him, but he didn't notice, he couldn't stop listening to the distant screams of people he couldn't save, of more families who would be forever gone…

" _ **Aedan**_ _."_

Hawke flinched, blinking up to the pair of blue-greens that stood tall in front of him, bringing his focus back to the present. Lyra was a sight he couldn't look away from- her beautiful blue-greens brought a familiar comfort to him, framed by her elegant tattoos, surrounded by the red hair peeping from her hood; yet, they streamed tears down her cheeks like a hard rain. Hawke blinked, the pain he saw in her like a mirror to how he felt. Lyra wept, as she looked at him, _wept_ ; and then her hands, those slender hands found his face, held his cheeks, steadied his gaze into hers…

" _Aedan_ ," she called, bringing him back, her voice shaking from her tears. He nodded slightly, hearing her, allowing her to coax him back into his body. "Aedan. Let's go."

 _Let's go_ , he thought, remembering, his goal; the Keep, the capitol building of Kirkwall, where the Arishok was headed, where the Viscount and nobles were, where they were headed, where he needed to go, to save the most amount of people. _They had to_ _ **go**_. He took a shaky breath.

"Yes." he stated quietly, nodding to her, nodding to Varric, nodding to Fenris. He unfroze and took off in the direction they were heading with numbed legs, towards Hightown, towards the main fighting. _Yes_ , he ran, feeling his friends behind him, seeing the devastation around him and letting the tragedy spur him further, faster. _Let's go_ , they swept through waves of howling qunari and layers of bodies lying on the street. They ran on the brick and cobblestone with freshly spilled blood streaming red down the cracks from the countless bodies piling from the carnage.

 _Arishok_ , Hawke thought with determination, nearing the Keep and having to watch his step over the mounds of guards lying dead on the street. _Arishok_ , his group killed qunari warrior after warrior like a well oiled machine, finally, finally reaching the giant gates leading upwards…

Hawke panted from their running as they made their way into the Keep, the thick walls blocking out the chorus of screams from outside, bringing them into an intense focus of a singular voice sounding above the mass of gathered nobles, the tension and fear thick in the air-

"Hawke! There you are," the Arishok's voice boomed across the main hall, bringing the attention of everyone gathered to him. Hawke strolled into the Keep, quickly assessing… _The nobles have been gathered, with warriors ready to slaughter them with a moments' notice. All the Keep guards have been killed; replaced by qunari. We are completely surrounded. Where, where is the Viscount-?_

Hawke straightened abruptly as his eyes focused on the Arishok, descending the main steps with regality. The Viscount's head dropped down the steps like a ball- bouncing slightly, in its descent, leaving a red trail on the expensive carpet, the silver crown falling off and rolling by itself in another direction.

"Finally," the Arishok's voice was rich with emotion, like the suppression of anger and hatred that had been pressurized within him had finally been released. The towering leader strode down the stairs slowly, reveling in the action he had taken, letting the blood soaked carpet wet his feet…

"You murderous _bastard_ ," Hawke hissed, his eyes narrowing. The Arishok chuckled loudly, his eyes bright from his fresh kills.

"It finally came, Hawke. The day of reckoning." he gestured around him, to the cowering nobles held ready for execution, the dozens of guard bodies still streaming fresh lifeblood. "The bas, of your city, have been liberated. It was all I could do to prolong it while we waited." he stopped at the foot of the stairs, his warriors wordlessly converging from the fringes to surround Hawke and his companions. Yet he kept his glare on the Arishok, shaking his head in disgust.

"There's no need to hear the excuses, the twisted reasonings of a genocidal _madman_ ," Hawke dismissed him angrily, the pain, the horror, the revulsion swirling through him and boiling his blood. The Arishok looked disappointed, the energy in his dark eyes narrowing.

"You have earned our respect. As a basalit-an, I give you and your companions a chance, for we _still_ have not found what was stolen, our missing relic that damned us to this hell in the first place!"

"I think _I_ can answer for that," Isabela's voice rang into the hall, bringing the attention of everyone to the gate. Hawke watched with sharp eyes as she walked up to him holding a large tome, the relic in question. She met his eyes briefly, looking around them quickly to see the situation they were in. "I returned, for some reason." her eyes met Varric's, Fenris's, and Lyra's briefly, her own gaze softening before meeting his again. "I guess I couldn't run away from you all after all."

"The Tome of Koslun," the Arishok walked up to them, his voice quieted, thoughtful. "Our Holy text." he received the book from Isabela, as Hawke gave her a determined smile, nodding to her.

"I believe you'll find it mostly undamaged," Isabela gestured, still slightly out of breath from running. The Arishok examined the book as everyone in the Keep waited in tension.

"The Tome has been reclaimed; I am now free to return to Par Vollen," the Arishok raised his gaze to Hawke, and then to Isabela. "...with, the thief."

Isabela took a step back. "Wait, what?"

"The Qun demands," the Arishok stated, "that I deal punishment to the one who denied my People Par Vollen. Four years, she remained a thief, _four years_ , we were displaced. She must have punishment, Hawke."

"There must be another way," Hawke reasoned, shaking his head. "This conflict devolved into so much more, regardless of Isabela. You've taken _enough_ ," he gestured around, his eyes sharpening into a glare. "Just leave this city, and we can be free of each other; that's what you've wanted."

"No," the Arishok shook his head, anger growing. "The Qun is clear. However, you are basalit-an. You can turn in the prisoner, or we can duel for her."

Isabela took a step forward, angry. "What? That doesn't make any sense, if you're going to duel someone, it should be _me_."

"You do not have the honor, nor the right, bas," the Arishok boomed, his voice echoing among the halls. "You are not basalit-an."

"I'll do it," Hawke said, nodding up to the large qunari. He met Isabela's frown, and met each of the concerned gazes of his companions. He found the large qunari's dark eyes again, letting the anger and the pain swirl through him and give him confidence. "Let's duel."

The qunari nodded, then looked around to his men and motioned, turning to stride towards the center of the main hall. The qunari warriors ushered the cowering nobles towards the walls, opening up the space for a fight.

Hawke breathed in deeply and shook out his limbs, gauging the fatigue in his arms and noting the state of his injuries that might slow him. _Nothing serious; a bad bruise on my side, might make sweeping from the right not as strong, a few cuts on my hands, don't stress my grip on my sword…_

The Arishok stood in the center like an unmoving tower, his massive shoulder guards the only real pieces of armor he had adorned but his grey skin looking like it was thicker than a bull's. He unsheathed two large axes, each considered a two handed weapon for all other races. His piercing gaze found Hawke's, an energy suffusing the dark beads that were similar to the energy of a predator. "Are you prepared?"

Hawke let out a breath, steadying his nerves and unsheathing his sword, familiarizing himself with the grip. "Yes."

The qunari surrounding them suddenly pounded their weapons on the ground, the war cries and yells mixing with the thunderous sounds. The Arishok twirled his giant axes in each hand, stretching his neck to the side as he walked forward comfortably. Hawke readied his stance, watching his every movement closely. _I'm really at a disadvantage. I'm tired from running here, I definitely can't hit as hard, he looks-_

Hawke yelled out in surprise as he instinctively raised his sword to block an incoming attack, the massive axe bouncing off his steel with a clang and a spark. The Arishok swung his other axe, and Hawke had to turn quickly, bringing his guard around and immediately returning with a swing.

 _Maker he's strong_ , Hawke thought as pain rippled through his body in shockwaves every time he blocked an attack, his steel holding but his body taking the hard impact of the Arishok's brute force. Hawke grit his teeth as he got a few hits in between the qunari's aggressive attack pattern, Hawke's sword barely denting his shoulder plates, unable to get through the strong guard of two axes protecting his abdomen.

" _Agh_ ," Hawke grunted as he barely deflected a hit to his bruised side, the force hurting him even through his expert blocking. _This isn't working_ , he thought quickly, realizing the larger warrior was slowly hammering him down with his unbelievable power.

Hawke's arms burned from deflecting his attacks, and with a yell, he countered a heavy attack by pushing him back a few steps and taking a few steps back himself, giving himself some space to breathe.

 _I have to be smart_ , he thought, trying hard to ignore the yells and taunts of the surrounding qunari. _I don't have the higher strength, for once, if only I was…_

His eyes flashed around, finding his friends, all watching him fearfully. Lyra took a step forward, raising her hood, glaring at him with fire, and yelled over the noise, " _Faster!_ "

Hawke blinked with just enough time to see the Arishok's incoming attack, and that split second seemed to freeze in time as he crouched slightly and dodged to the side, much like how he had seen her and Isabela do so many times.

The axe buried itself into the ground where Hawke had been standing, the Arishok thrown slightly off balance. Hawke didn't give himself a second to think about it before he took the opportunity and lunged. His sword point grazed into the side of the qunari's chest, and the deafening roar that followed slightly stunning Hawke before he jumped away.

 _Speed_ , he thought, starting to circle the angry beast, _is what's going to save me. Try and remember_ , he glanced to his friends, and seeing the stout Varric, a memory of one of his fighting moves popping into his head. Hawke sprinted towards the qunari with a battle cry, the qunari raising his axes to deflect him, and an instant before he landed his attack, he feigned to the right, his thighs shooting him to the side, and his sword slashing his upper thigh as he spun.

The Arishok roared again as Hawke backed up, his thighs burning from the unfamiliar movement, but his determination strong, his confidence strengthened by the knowledge of his friends. The Arishok advanced on him in fury, his axes raised out to the sides to prevent him from dodging to the side again, before doing something Hawke hadn't expected.

The qunari raised up an axe and hurled it towards Hawke with breath-taking speed, and Hawke barely stepped to the side in time to avoid it killing him on the spot, the axe slicing into his left shoulder on its way past.

"Ah, _fuck_ ," Hawke grunted, backing away as the pain almost blinded him. His shoulder throbbed and began to seep blood, and a shockwave of panic tore through his when he tried to move his fingers but couldn't. _Fuck, fuck, fuck-_

The Arishok lunged at him in his fury, Hawke alternating between dodging away and blocking with one hand, his left arm too weak to help support his heavy sword.

It was in the midst of this bloody survival dance that he remembered something, a recent memory, of a fight he and his companions were in, where Lyra had lost one of her twin swords in the middle of the fight, and she had flipped the remaining sword in her right hand to be held backhand, using it to-

Hawke let his heavy sword fall downwards in an arc, adjusting his grip to hold the sword backhand, and jumped into the Arishok's guard between his arms, thrusting upwards with the hilt of his two handed sword into the Arishok's throat.

His hilt dug into the vulnerable area, the Arishok choking a startled gasp, and Hawke immediately looked down, aimed, and drove the tip of his sword into the top of the Arishok's foot.

The roar was deafening and Hawke used the last ounces of his strength to rip his sword up, take a step back to aim, and drive his sword into the Arishok's chest, splitting through two ribs and exiting out his back.

The hall was silenced, the war cries of the qunari warriors gone, and the only sounds were Hawke's heavy breathing and the Arishok's gurgling.

Hawke staggered away from the beast, leaving his sword in his chest, and backed a few steps away, bringing a hand to his bleeding shoulder and trying to catch his breath. The Arishok struggled, every muscle in his body taught with effort, and he fell forward onto his knees, his black eyes rising to find Hawke's.

"Finish, it," he choked out, gripping the sword protruding out of his chest, his fingers bleeding from how he gripped the blade. He yelled out in frustration when he couldn't yank it out of his own chest. " _I do not submit_!"

Hawke walked forward, nodding to him quietly, and wrapped his one working hand around the hilt of his sword, yanking it out with a grunt and a spurt of blood, before re-angling it towards the qunari leader's heart. The Arishok looked up at him, his darkened eyes resolute, before crying out, " _For the Qun!_ "

Hawke drove his sword into his heart, killing him quickly, the powerful body of the Arishok finally falling.

" _Yes_ ," relieved murmurs from the surrounding nobles sounded around him after a moment, and he looked up, meeting the eyes of some of the qunari warriors. They nodded to him respectfully, sheathing their weapons, taking the Tome, and leaving the Hall without another word. Hawke just stood there in front of the body for a moment as the nobles around him started to cheer, and it was only when he felt the comforting hands of his friends that he looked up and blinked.

"Thank the Gods," Lyra murmured, her hands subtly reaching to his shoulder to silently heal him. Fenris laid a hand on his other shoulder, Isabela and Varric gave him small relieved smiles from behind. He shook his head, slightly overwhelmed.

 _Is it over?_


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello! My semester and work just started so I will be incredibly busy, so this chapter is nice and long to make up for my future slower pace.**

 **Keep reading to get through it, because the end of this chapter finally gives us some** ** _heat_** **[NSFW warning] enjoy !**

 **Thank you for reading!**

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A week had passed since the Qunari uprising; just enough time for the bodies and blood to be cleaned from the streets, and reconstruction of the city to begin.

Lyra slid down against a brick wall, sitting on the ground on a main street leading to Lowtown, exhausted from the day of work and taking a moment to catch her breath. The people of Kirkwall were still rebuilding the few buildings and stands that had collapsed in the attack, and Hawke and his friends had spent the last week offering help wherever they could.

 _The resiliency of these people_ , Lyra thought to herself while she pulled out an apple and watched the people moving about around her. _It brings me back to how the people of Ferelden managed after the Blight. Forging ahead, rebuilding the village, strengthening the community._

Merrill approached her from where she had been helping a family repair a broken door frame, her slender arms covered in dirt and her cropped hair a mess. She slumped down next to Lyra, needing the breather as well, and Lyra wordlessly procured another apple for her, the two happy to silently share their lunch in the shade from the midday sun.

 _I haven't walked around out in daylight like this, without my armor and hood,_ she thought to herself, feeling Merrill lean over and rest her head against her shoulder. The past week was a blur, she hadn't had time to worry about keeping her hood up. She wore her simple tunic and trousers with her boots, her hair pulled back into her braid for work but her identifying tattoos and pointed ears out for anyone to see. _No one would recognize me, anyway. It's been years since the Blight, and the people here in my new home community have their own worries._

The two were resting when they heard some shouts from the street over, and they quickly stood and headed to where the noise was, the danger that comes with construction a common thing to look out for in these times. They rounded the corner and saw a large supply wagon in the center of the street with a dozen or so people around it in panic. The screams of a man sounded beneath, and Lyra quickly saw the broken axel and missing wheel that had caused it to fall on the man repairing it.

"Out of the way!" Hawke's voice boomed over the panic, the heads of all the people turning to see the tall, dirty, well-worn raven-haired human jog over to the commotion. The people parted to make room for him as he rushed to the fallen man being crushed by the wagon. Lyra and Merrill hurried forward as well as Hawke gripped the bottom of the wagon with both hands and braced himself, muscles in his thighs and arms tensing in preparation. He grunted in effort as he strained to lift the heavy wood and metal wagon, and Lyra stopped Merrill before they got too close, thinking quickly.

"Lethallan," she whispered to her, meeting her eyes meaningfully before she knelt down to the cobblestone. Merrill caught on quick as she did the same, and together they focused their mana in the way they had been practicing together, into the natural forces and energies around them. As one they pushed a force into the ground, focusing it and aiming it upwards to come out from the bottom of the wagon, adding an upwards force to aid Hawke's lifting.

Together the three raised the wagon long enough for a few onlookers to drag the injured man out from underneath, and they released the wagon once he was clear, the heavy weight landing on the ground with a loud bang.

"Hah," Hawke let out a breath as he wiped his brow, returning the smile of the man as the people around them cheered, " _Champion of Kirkwall! Champion of Kirkwall!_ "

Hawke waved away the praise and immediately went to Lyra and Merrill, his blues flashing them bright from the adrenaline and from his energy. He raised his arms out to hug them with a grin and leaned in to whisper, "Thanks you both, you're getting better at that!"

Merrill giggled as the three walked away from the crowd together, elbowing Hawke with a soft smirk. "Oh no rush to leave just yet, go and enjoy the praise, _Champion_!"

" _Stop_ ," Hawke groaned lightly at Merrill's tease, looking down and giving Lyra a happy smile. "I'm lucky you both were there; your force magic, is so impressive." He spoke in a whisper only they could hear. The use of public magic was completely out of the question, now. Since the passing of the Viscount, Knight-Commander Meredith had stepped in, enforcing the strictest rules for mages with her army of Templars patrolling the streets.

"And _silent_ , too," Lyra nodded up to him, returning his smile tiredly, but really happy to be walking with him, safe and sound, unhurt. _Unhurt, after all that happened. All of us alive and well… I'm so thankful._

Hawke seemed to sense the depth of feeling she was in, for he slung his arm around her shoulders, the feeling so familiar and comforting. _Aedan_. She let herself turn her face into his shirt, nuzzling him briefly, uncaring how dirty they both were from the day of work.

Merrill piped up, drawing both their attentions. "I need to run back to the alienage to check on the neighbors; I'll see you both later!" She headed off, the three waving.

"Oh, now there's an old face," Hawke said with a curious tone, making Lyra look up as they ascended some stairs. Her eyes widened, and then squinted, disbelieving. _Cullen?_

"Champion of Kirkwall," the blond Templar greeted Hawke, and Hawke waved away the title, giving him a cautious smile. Cullen smiled down at Lyra, curious of Hawke's companion, and then stopped, stared, and he blinked, shocked. "Wait, you-? I've seen, no way…"

Lyra swallowed, memories flashing through her of when she first met this Ferelden Templar. _On his knees, thinking she was another illusion, set to tempt him into blood magic. Begging her to kill him. Begging her to kill all the mages. Suffering, Tortured, Desperate, Terrified._ _ **Broken**_ _._

"Cullen," she said softly, walking a little closer to him so they could keep their conversation lowered. He was shaking his head, looking between Hawke and her in disbelief.

"Grey Warden… Hero, of Ferelden…" he made a fist and held it to his chest as a sign of respect, keeping his voice lowered like hers. "Of all places… have you been here, in Kirkwall, all this time?"

"I have," she nodded, giving him a small smile, noticing the small differences in him. _Darker bags under his eyes, dented armor, ruffled hair. He looks… ever so cautious, and ever so tired. And just as haunted, as before._ "It is good to see you are doing alright."

"Likewise," he chuckled softly, still surprised. "I can't believe it. They put out a missing persons' report for you a while ago," he glanced to Hawke and noted their familiarity, "but it seems like you don't need finding."

"It's just political, the missing person's report," Lyra explained, starting to feel the itch to cover her face again, clearing her throat and reverting back to the public official she once was. "The Ferelden government knows and wants my absence; managed it, almost. Due to noble relations, I have been tasked with lying low, in the interests of Ferelden's rule."

"Wait, they… kicked you out?" he frowned. "Though I know, you, and King Alistair… ah, forgive me." he looked down, shaking his head. "It's not my place." he glanced up to Hawke, curious. "Though now that I think about it I'm not surprised to find you here, in the rebuilding after a crisis. As I'm not surprised to find you here, Hawke."

"Ah, what can I say," Hawke said lightly, glancing between them. "I forgot you came from Ferelden too, Cullen. How are you holding up, after all of it?"

"Well," Cullen started, looking around the street and letting some of the exhaustion show on his face. "A lot has happened in the last week. Knight Commander Meredith has us all on strict schedules for patrolling; we don't get a lot of rest. But I do think it's for good reason. Kirkwall needs stability and structure after the Qunari crisis, whether the mages like it or not. Mages can't be trusted to account for their own danger in a normal setting; now, after the Qunari, we need to be extra watchful."

"You don't think her measures are somewhat extreme?" Hawke asked honestly. Cullen sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"People say she's gone mad with power; I've _seen_ mad," he paused, his eyes briefly meeting Lyra's. In that one second of connection, she saw an ocean of shame, regret, and fear, before he looked away, gesturing to her. "We've seen madness, in Uldred, in the Ferelden Circle. The things there, Hawke… it's better to be safe, than dead. Meredith's not there yet. But, I can see where the rumors come from."

"It's vague, is all," Hawke said thoughtfully, his voice soft. "The Order's duties. What they stand for."

Cullen sighed again, nodding regretfully. "I _know_ what I stand for, what the Order stands for. I knew it after that night in the Circle. But I'll admit, I often wonder whether I am serving the Templars, or the Knight Commander. They no longer always feel one and the same."

Hawke nodded, reaching out a hand to lay on his shoulder. "You sound like you need a stiff drink, friend."

"I wish," Cullen chuckled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "New rules for us, we shouldn't willingly give loss to our faculties. We have to stay vigilant. Can't be vulnerable..." he glanced to Lyra again. "...to temptation."

He smiled politely with averted eyes before making his leave, leaving Hawke and Lyra staring after him.

"Well damn," Hawke remarked, shaking his head sadly. "Meredith's going to have an unhappy group of campers if she's not letting any of them _drink_."

Lyra didn't say anything, lost in thought as she watched the haunted man walk away, her brows together in worry.

"Hey," Hawke brought her back to the present with a hand on her back, and she blinked up at him.

"Sorry, it was, just strange to see him again," she shook her head.

"The Ferelden Circle…" he wondered, staring off as well. "I can't imagine, what you both went through."

Lyra looked up at him, wrapping an arm under his in a hug. "What I went through, can't compare to the horrors he faced."

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 _What a long day,_ Hawke thought to himself as he trudged up the many stairs to Hightown, his whole body sore from the labor of the day. _But a good day_ , he smiled to himself, feeling accomplished, knowing the many people he helped out.

 _This is the_ least _you can do, after…_

Hawke sighed as he turned the corner, frowning to himself. _After you let the Qunari crisis escalate to how it did._

"Stop," he murmured to himself, the heavy feeling of guilt and regret swirling through him like a stomach sickness. _Many people died. Many families were torn. The Viscount was murdered, and the Templars took over, swooping in to the empty space of power he left open._

Hawke breathed in deeply and begged the waves of anxiety he was feeling to die down, knowing it did nothing to worry. His stomach still felt heavy like lead as he walked up to this mansion.

 _Oh?_ The lights were on inside, did that mean-?

He opened his front door to feel the wave of warmth coming from the fireplace, the soft familiar voices pausing in their conversation as he closed the door behind him.

He walked in to see a group of people sitting on the couches around the fireplace, all of them making a smile come to his face.

"My son!" Leandra called happily from the couch, the older woman smiling at him. Isabela sat next to her on the couch, with Merrill and Lyra sitting on the carpet in front, all four of the women holding teacups and sitting comfortably.

"Mother," Hawke felt his face break into a smile. "Everyone," he nodded to the other three as he walked around to approach his mother, still wearing her travelling clothes. He reached down and met Leandra's arms in a hug, squeezing her gently and relishing in knowing she was home safe.

"You made it back," he said softly as Leandra gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

"Yes, finally, it's been so long," she gestured to her guests, holding her tea. "I ran into these three darlings on the docks when my ship came in, and they were so sweet to help me carry my bags up all those steps."

"Thank you," Hawke grinned at Isabela, Lyra, and Merrill, thankful for these considerate friends. Isabela waved it away, but spoke nicely.

"We've always loved your mom. Leandra's been telling us all the juicy tales of Orlais, you walked in on the _after parties_ ," she gave him a wink and he raised an eyebrow at her, looking down to meet Merrill and Lyra's gazes, Merrill piping up.

"We tried to fill her in, on, everything that happened."

"My son, the _Champion of Kirkwall_? I have to write all my friends," Leandra mused, and Hawke chuckled.

"Oh no, please, I'm hoping that doesn't stick." he bent to kneel down on the carpet to sit next to Lyra, crossing his legs and meeting her startling eyes briefly with a wink and a smile. "I smell your tea. But you added something…" he thought, cocking his head, leaning closer to her to better catch the scent. "Is it… cherry?"

"Yes," Lyra nodded with a knowing smile, offering him her cup for him to try. He took a sip, nodding in approval before looking up to his mother.

"I need to hear about everything, but let me wash up first; it's been a long day," he made his way back up to his feet, leaning down to give Leandra a quick kiss on her forehead, glancing again to meet his friend's gazes. "Thank you all again for helping her out; stay, I'll break open a bottle for us in a bit."

Lyra peered after him thoughtfully as he hurried off to the bathroom to wash, still feeling a lingering warmth where his knee brushed hers. Leandra, Isabela, and Merrill resumed the conversation and Lyra struggled to focus.

 _Ever since that night,_ she studied her tea, appreciating its newer shade of rose from the dried cherries. _Ever since that night I stayed over for that hard anniversary, what was it, a month ago now? Did I imagine the spark I felt between us? The butterflies that threaten to explode in my stomach every time he meets my eyes is overwhelming. His touch…_ she shifted on the carpet, tucking her hair behind her pointed ear, remembering the ways he has held her, _his touch is…_

"...right, Lyra?"

Lyra blinked up when she heard her name, catching Merrill's knowing smile and Leandra's patient gaze. "Forgive me, I seemed to have fallen into a daydream."

Merrill sipped from her cup. "I was telling Leandra about the alienage, and how it's turned to a brighter place since you moved in."

Lyra smiled and shook her head, "It's thanks to you too, Merrill." she nodded up to Leandra. "We have a festival coming up; the Summer Solstice, if you'd like to come try the mead and Dalish cooking. We'd love you to visit."

"Oh how fun that sounds, I'd be delighted," Leandra nodded excitedly, looking over the three women with a tired smile. "Forgive me my exhaustion, my dears; I think I'll retire early and catch up on some missed sleep. Feel free to stay as long as you'd like; I'm sure my son won't be long."

The three said their goodbyes as the Hawke mother made her leave, complementing Lyra's tea and thanking them one last time for their help carrying her bags. Isabela shifted, glancing to meet Lyra's gaze with a hesitant look, catching Lyra by surprise by her more reserved expression.

"Robin, I've been meaning to talk to you, thinking about the elven festival and all, reminded me," she fidgeted slightly, and the two elves waited patiently for her to gather her words. She chuckled nervously. "I've uh… started spending time with Fenris."

Lyra blinked, surprised, and intrigued, quickly gauging Isabela's body language and feeling a smile come to her face. _I'm honestly so glad to hear. And to think, I've been feeling the same way about_ her _ex, what a coincidence_. She opened her mouth to ask how he's been doing, but Isabela continued quickly, not meeting her eyes. "I know it's been a while since you two were together, but I still wanted you to hear about it from me first, and I totally get it if you-"

"Isabela," Lyra stopped her, meeting her eyes with a smile, "I'm not in the least bit angry, or annoyed, if anything I'm _relieved_ -"

Lyra stopped abruptly, clearing her throat and continuing. "I'm happy, to think he might be happy, and _you_ might be happy," she smiled at her and stood from the carpet, coming to sit next to her on the couch. She took Isabela's hands in her own, smiling encouragingly into her friend's eyes. "You're so brave, and so considerate, to tell me, and I love you for it."

Isabela seemed to melt slightly, letting out a breath and squeezing Lyra's hands. "Oh I'm so glad. It's all been a bit weird and all but I feel loads better telling you about it."

"I…" Lyra swallowed, looking between her eyes for a moment before glancing down to meet Merrill's too. "I… should also, tell you…" she felt her cheeks heat and she seemed to shrink.

 _Tell them? About my feelings for him?_

"About the big guy?" Isabela pointed casually with her thumb towards the other room where Hawke had exited, and Lyra looked over there and back quickly, fear in her eyes. Isabela gasped, excited. "Wait, have you two _finally_ gotten toge-"

" _No!_ " Lyra hissed, eyes flitting to the other room, then looking between her friends who neither looked at all surprised at her indirect confession. Her gut dropped in dread as she slightly shrunk back, keeping her voice in a whisper. "Please, I don't wish to complicate our friendship if he doesn't also-, I don't know that he, I don't think-" she sighed and frowned at the amused grins coming from her friends, shaking her head exasperatedly. "Gods preserve me, I'm so obvious, aren't I."

"I wouldn't worry about it, lethallan," Merrill giggled softly, sharing a knowing look with Isabela, who nodded in agreement.

"Kitten's right, Robin. Honestly, no need to whisper-"

"Ah," Lyra shook her head, blushing hard, standing from the couch quickly and gathering all the teacups busily. "I, I'm, thankful, it doesn't bother you either, Isabela, I…" she fussed and took the teacups to the kitchen, needing to move to relieve some of the tension in her body. She came back, her face still in full blush, to Isabela chatting away happily.

"...and _now_ my favorite fantasy involves the spiky glowing elf, the Champion human hunk, the beautiful exotic Robin, and me, _drunk_ off my tits, _all four of us together all at once on one giant bed would just sound so_ -"

"Isabela please!" Merrill laughed, stopping her from going further into her foursome fantasy details, Lyra shocked still for a moment and heavily amused by Isabela's teasing. Lyra unfroze, holding back laughter at her friend's ridiculousness.

"Enough of that, love, I'm not on the clock," Lyra winked at Isabela with a grin, swaggering over to her in their common flirty fashion usually found at the Hanged Man. The three devolved into common banter, the friendship among the three women never before stronger.

O

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O

O

"Lyra! Varric! Focus fire on the front legs!" Hawke shouted above the battle sounds, watching Varric turn Bianca's line of fire and seeing Lyra's arrows focusing from wherever she was hiding. The dragon in front of them stood taller than his mansion, with sparkling scales that were splashed with blood and with the ground around her littered with her dead dragonlings. She was magnificent. Deadly, but magnificent.

He felt Ander's healing magic strengthen his muscles, and he took advantage of the timing to charge the beast, taking her attention away from the three other long-range attackers.

 _She's weakening_ , he thought, seeing the large mother's attacks become slower. Her resolve may be fading as well, after seeing him and his companions kill so many of her offspring. They had been fighting for what felt like hours, but was probably not more than twenty minutes.

He blocked one of her claws with his shield, feeling the dull thud of the impact ripple down his legs to his feet, and then drove his sword from underneath, embedding the steel into the palm of her front claw, feeling it part muscle and scrape against bone. The roar that followed was deafening, and Hawke pulled desperately to dislodge his sword before she had a chance to send him flying. He was hunched under his shield, yanking on his sword, when he felt hands grab onto his shoulders and lightly push down on him, followed by the sight of Lyra vaulting over him and onto the front arm of the dragon.

She was clothed as usual, in her signature grey and black leather, and her bow was strapped to her back, replaced by her daggers in her hands. He watched her nimbly climb up the dragon's limb, onto its shoulder, grabbing onto a spike coming from its neck. He stopped pulling, and instead shoved the sword further into the flesh of the beast, in an attempt to keep its attention away from his friend.

 _Damn it, Lanyra, be careful!_

"Anders!" Hawke shouted, and he watched the mage understand the message as a blue field immersed Lyra, strengthening her and protecting her. She clung onto the spike on the dragon's neck as she thrashed and roared, in pain from Hawke's sword as he used all of his strength to slice down into the palm of its claw towards its wrist.

He quickly reversed the motion, wrenching his sword upwards with a roar, and sliced through its palm through the webbing between its claws, cutting the claw clean in half and spraying himself with gallons of blood.

He jumped back quickly, but watched closely as Lyra clung to the dragon as it thrashed in pain. Then, in an instant, she pulled herself up and scaled its neck, clinging to the the spike closest to its head. In a second where the dragon wasn't thrashing, Lyra lunged and plunged her daggers into the eyes of the beast with terrifying speed and precision.

Hawke had thought he had heard the loudest roar possible, but the sound that came from the dragon was in absolute horror. In a state of pure adrenaline he charged the dragon, and as it lowered its head in an attempt to throw Lyra off, he stabbed upward, thrusting his sword up through the base of its jaw, and deep into its skull, marking the final blow.

He wrenched his sword out, spilling gallons more blood, and jumped back to avoid the large beast landing on him. The dragon collapsed right in front of him with Lyra still holding on to her daggers embedded in its eyes, and he panted heavily as the dust settled and the ground stopped shaking. He dropped his sword and shield on the ground, clattering as he approached his friend, still crouching on top of the dead dragon's head. Her hood was drawn, as always, so he could not see her expression, but as he strode towards her, she dislodged her daggers smoothly in a bloody spray, and rose slowly from her crouch, like a predator who had just made a perfect kill. Her face rose to meet his gaze, her blue-green fires scorching him from within the shadow of her hood, the deadly flames of her gaze burning calmly and controlled.

Hawke stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitched from an invisible blow to his chest, knocking the wind out of him. There, standing in front of him, stood the most unbelievably beautiful being, a sight so completely captivating he nearly fell to his knees in shock. She simply stood there looked at him from the top of a dragon's head, but he felt like he was in the center of an amphitheater with a crowd of thousands strong around them, with this woman in front of him as the main event. The way her hands loosely held blood-soaked daggers that had just seconds ago gouged out the eyes of a _dragon_ , the way she had risen from her crouch so gracefully on the head of the beast they just killed together, how her eyes looked at _him_ with such raw, bright energy from the adrenaline…

Hawke stood frozen with his knees locked. The moment passed and he watched her let out a sigh of relief, her expression softening from her concentration as she realized they could relax and celebrate. Lyra's face broke into a smile so carefree and unashamed, feeling the energy of their victory as she looked at him...

She stepped down from the dragon's bleeding head and sheathed her daggers, but her eyes remained locked on his as she cocked her head at him. The way she looked at him, smiling at him so openly, with her joy spilling out from her that she shared with him so publicly on display for the world, made him just stare at her dumbly as a realization set in quite securely, without any room for interpretation.

 _I have completely fallen for this woman._

He vaguely heard the whoops and cheers from Anders and Varric behind him, but the rest of the world felt muted as she strode towards him with her smiling blue-greens, and he moved without thinking as she got closer to him.

When she was feet away he reached out and grasped her, pulling her firmly into an embrace. His arms encircled her and he held her to him tightly, feeling her arms wrap around him as well as she turned her face into the crook of his neck, the movement the most natural feeling in the world. He bent and hugged her securely, her scent and her form feeling so absolutely _right_ next to him at this moment and his knees going weak when he felt her arms tighten around him. _She is safe. She is safe. She is safe._

"You are uninjured?" she asked softly from beneath his jaw, and he involuntarily shivered from the intimacy, her breath brushing his skin. Not trusting his voice, he merely nodded. They stayed like that for a moment or two, before he felt her shift slightly to look at him. He looked down to meet her startling gaze, and he found her smile amused, though her eyes kind.

"Is it your goal to soak my clothing in dragon blood?"

He blinked and then looked down, suddenly remembering that he was covered head to toe in blood from the battle. He released her quickly and stepped away, chuckling nervously.

"Ah, just checking to see that you still have all your limbs after such a battle." She watched him as he fumbled awkwardly. "Ah yes, I count four."

She chuckled and shook her head, before turning away slightly to remove her hood, baring her bright braided hair to the sun. She glanced at him sideways, her eyes widened and curious, her smile small. Hawke felt every beat of his heart resonate through his being.

"That was _incredible_!" Varric cheered from behind. "Children will be talking about this battle for ages to come!" Hawke mentally shook himself before turning to him. Varric continued enthusiastically. "Drinks on me, tonight!"

"What a _rush_!" Anders agreed, the two coming to join them at the head of the dragon's corpse. Varric continued, still ecstatic.

"The Champion of Kirkwall, driving his Holy sword into the jaw of the 7 story tall dragon matriarch, after slaying countless of her offspring, each death adding a notch to her unrelenting malice!"

Hawke smiled and shook his head, before looking over to see Lyra near the head of the dead beast. She was crouched down, and at a closer look, she was filling a spare wineskin with the blood dripping steadily from the corner of its jaw. She must have felt his gaze, because she looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes bright.

"Dragon blood has incredible healing properties. It needs to be gathered fresh." she smiled and went back to her task, before glancing back at him over her shoulder curiously, her eyes perceptive, and asking him more softly. "Are you alright, Aedan?"

He blinked and realized he was staring again before quickly nodding and averting his eyes with a forced smile. "Killed my first dragon. I'd say I'm doing quite right."

She grinned at him. "Damn right. I'll buy you a drink tonight."

"He deserves more than that." Anders slapped Hawke's shoulder, buzzing from the adrenaline. "Hawke _seriously_ needs to get laid tonight. Varric? That's our mission."

Hawke's eyes found Lyra's instantly. They both glanced away. Varric chuckled.

"I think we all need a damned _nap_ , after that fight. I haven't felt this drained since the Deep roads."

"Fine, nap, _then_ smash. I haven't felt this alive in years!"

Hawke chuckled and slapped Ander's shoulder back. "It sounds like we should find someone for _you_ to smash, my friend."

"Yeah, maybe," he said with a spin of his staff.

"While you all are napping and smashing, I'll just go let the merchant know that the beast who was causing all of those deaths has been dealt with," Lyra teased. Anders saluted her, and Varric clasped his hands in dramatic praise. Hawke chuckled as she flicked them all off with a grin, and as a group, they headed back to the city.

Lyra fell in place next to Hawke, lagging behind the dwarf and mage eager to get home. She met his eyes with her soft ones.

"That was fun. I know I chose right, spending my retirement following you, if we are getting to kill dragons."

"A bit young for retirement, aren't we?" he cocked his head at her and smiled, his heart still quaking slightly from looking at her. _Get it together._ She nodded thoughtfully, something on her mind.

"You're right. Though I doubt it has anything to do with age. Retirement will be when I can disappear into some forest or another, when the restlessness to constantly be fighting for something has finally faded away."

He looked at her, meeting her eyes. She was tired, he could see, from the fight, but the same relentless energy that made him get up in the morning and fight every day was lighting her eyes.

"I understand that. I'd love to live a life of relaxation, but… I can't. Not yet. There's still so much to do."

She nodded in agreement. "I thought perhaps, after the Blight and everything that happened, I would be able to just fade into a new city, live the rest of my days in safety and comfort." she shook her head and smiled absently. "But then I had to go and find people like you who remind me, how amazing it is to _live_."

He felt his heart swell, and his brows upturned. She met his gaze, her expression reserved, but her eyes soft. He spoke without thinking, staring into her wells he felt so comfortable in.

"Fighting, every day, is all well and good for me. But I realized today, looking up at you after the battle, that it feels incredible to have someone to fight for."

Her eyes widened and a blush shown from under her Vallaslin. She blinked at him, and he swallowed when he really heard not just what he had said, but _how_ he had said it.

 _What am I saying… What am I doing?_

He looked away and chuckled nervously, trying to relieve the tension for her. "Forgive me, I must be dazed from all the blood. Does dragon blood give you a good high, as well as having healing properties?"

He kept his eyes averted, and heard the second of silence from her. It didn't last long, however, and she chuckled back to his relief.

"I don't think so, but I _do_ know of something that will smoke us a good high, if you're interested. I'd have to talk to a friend first."

He glanced at her, slightly thrown off balance from her response, but intrigued. "Actually…hell. Yeah, why not?"

They smiled at each other, her eyes curious, his looking away after a short time. _You need to watch yourself, Hawke._

O

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Lyra felt a hand roughly grab her ass through her apron as she passed a table, the feeling of alarm shooting through her. She stumbled from shock, doing all she could to keep the pitcher and glasses on the tray she was holding from toppling.

Her head whipped around her, eyes searching defensively, but all she found was the same suspicious group of men who had been bothering her all night, 5 of them sitting at a table in the Hanged Man, none of them looking her way and all of them snickering to themselves.

 _Damn it_ , she thought to herself uncomfortably, quickly walking away towards the safety of behind the bar. _I want to throw them out, but the owner already left and Varric is passed out somewhere, and I'm the only one working..._

Lyra absently filled her pitcher and cleaned some glasses, the loud ruckas of the Hanged Man a familiar background drone. Her neck pricked as she felt a pair of eyes watching her, and she raised her gaze to find the piercing blues of her companion and leader; Aedan Hawke.

He watched her from the far side of the Hanged Man at their party's usual table. Anders and Isabela sat on either side of him, but the full attention of this large warrior was on her. She stopped what she was doing to blink at him, slowly reading his expression through the haze of the dirty pub. His blues held a sharp edge, his shoulders were tensed. Her eyes widened.

 _He saw, the groping men touch me._

She smiled at him when she finally understood, shaking her head lightly and trying to reassure him nonverbally that all was well. He returned her smile, but his gaze did not soften.

 _Aedan. My watchful guardian._ She thought with a smile to herself, a warm feeling entering her chest knowing she wasn't alone. Working as a waitress was rarely an uneventful shift, and though Lyra was more than capable of handling anything thrown her way in this rowdy bar, it still made her feel relieved to know she had someone looking out for her. Even more so since she and Hawke had become much closer in the passing months, and even more so since her feelings for him had only grown more severe. _He doesn't know, what he means to me._

She finished refilling her pitcher and walked over to her friends' table, knowing they could go through a pitcher in mere minutes. She unconsciously took a wide berth around the table with the touchy men, trying not to let it show on her face as she met Aedan's eyes again.

"Robin! You're my angel," Isabela praised as Lyra set the pitcher down in front of the three.

"Anything for you, Isabela," Lyra cooed with a grin, bending over and giving her a light kiss on the pirate's forehead. Isabela swooned happily and Lyra giggled, before Anders eagerly filled his cup.

"I'm tipping heavily tonight, Lyra, your timing's perfect."

"How are you doing?" Hawke asked her directly, blues peering up at her knowingly, and Lyra blinked at him before letting a smile mask her face.

"Tired, as usual, but the rush is over, I'm just left with you lot and the other drunkards," she winked lightly before gathering their empty glasses and waving as she left to tend to another table.

 _All is well_ , she told herself, grabbing what she needed at the bar before taking a second to take a breath and steel her nerves. _You are strong. You are powerful. You helped take down a_ dragon _today, and it wasn't your first. You are strong._

She walked up to the table while watching all five of the men, their gazes less subtle and their smiles less polite from how drunk most of them had become. Their eyes felt like insects crawling under her clothes, the aura they held felt like having to walk through quicksand, slowing her steps and constricting her breathing.

She smiled grimly as she gathered the empty glasses on their table, her nerves held in uncomfortable suspension from hope that they would just leave it alone, when the one to her left with an eye patch reached out and let a heavy hand rest on the side of her waist. Her nerves seized up.

She flinched, masking a frown and starting to retract, when his drunken slur called out and his hand slightly tightened.

"You've got some fine assets for an elf, sweetheart," the man stunk of booze and sweat, and Lyra felt a shiver of disgust travel down her spine. She smiled politely and diverted.

"Can I get anything else for you all?" she pulled away from the man's grip with her tray, and took the delayed few seconds of the mens' drunken processing as a pass to leave, hearing a few crude remarks of 'get me a room with you,' and 'get on your knees,' as she quickly walked away.

 _Vile_ , she thought with a shiver, looking around self-consciously and hoping no one else had heard.

She reached the front of the bar and was dropping off some glasses when her instincts flared and she felt danger right behind her. She whirled around just in time to see the eye patched man block her vision, his frame blocking out the light and pushing towards her so she had to look up to meet his bloodshot gaze. His hands reached around either side of her to lean against the counter, blocking her in and letting a crude smirk twist his mouth.

 _Push him away!_ Her mind screamed at her, but her arms could only twitch from the shock, she was frozen. _Push him away!_

"Sweetheart, get ole' Sal another drink," he breathed down on her, and her chest seized in panic, overwhelmed by the smell and how close he was and how his hand reached down for her-

" **Babe!** " a booming voice rang out, catching their attention to the side. The familiar large, broad shouldered, muscular man approached them with the fiercest look in his eye, pinning them both in place as he stalked towards them. _Aedan_ , Lyra thought with relief, pressing back into the counter to get as far away from the offending man as she could in that moment.

Hawke fixed a curious smile on the smaller man, though his eyes were like hardened, sharp diamond, ready to cut. "Who's this?" he asked directly, staring into the man's one eye as he came upon the two. Hawke's arm casually slipped around Lyra's shoulders, the weight so familiar and comforting, as he cocked his head and smiled dead-pan at the other man.

"Ah…" the eye patch fumbled, taking a step back from the intimidating strength, the distance slightly clearing the haze of fear away from Lyra's eyes and limbs. Lyra temporarily slumped into the support of her friend as her heart calmed from its fast beating, before the other four men at the table realized what was happening. One by one they stood from the table and approached, backing up their friend.

"Hey, we got a problem here?" one of them asked with a growl, glancing to Hawke before looking Lyra up and down with hunger in his eyes. Lyra's face twisted in disgust, and chilly ice flooded her veins from the look in his gaze.

"Yeah," Hawke said in a deadly monotone, now staring this man down. "You can't keep your hands off my girl."

Lyra swallowed and registered. _Aedan knows these are frequent customers, and that the owner would want this solved peacefully. He's trying to intimidate them to leave, and making them think we're together is the fastest way._

" _Your_ girl? This wench?" another of the drunk ones said, shaking his head in disbelief, causing a few chuckles from the others. "Come on, mate, you could do better than this knife-eared bi-"

Hawke moved with surprising speed, slamming his fist into the face of the man before he could finish, and sending him toppling back, falling into one of his friends. " _Fuck you, bastard,_ " Hawke growled, clenching his fist to get ready to punch another. The eye patch responded first, yelling out angrily and pulling his own fist back.

Lyra finally unfroze, seeing her friend in a fight and her instincts finally kicking back in. Eye patch swung his fist forward, and before it could connect with Hawke's face Lyra slapped it out of the way, her lightning fast reflexes back alight. The man stumbled forward, and Hawke took the pause to jump towards him, tackling him to the ground with a yell.

In an instant the entire bar _erupted_. Yells and shouts were followed by the sounds of breaking glass and thuds of brawling. Lyra dodged the hands of an angry man and pushed him away, and she took the chance to grab a bar stool and hurl it at him. Hawke pummeled the lights out of the one he had on the ground and then took a kick from the back from another. Anders came running in yelling to Hawke's defense, taking a punch but returning with his own drunken swings.

"YES, BAR FIGHT!" Isabela cheered from somewhere in the chaotic mess of the pub, while Lyra shot a messy right hook towards the man with the wandering eyes.

Punches, kicks, yells, punches, tackles, and booze was flying every which way the air was filled with it, and Lyra paused after a minute to slip over to the bar and get herself a shot of something, anything, whatever was on hand that was _strong_.

She sat heavily on a stool and downed two shots while chaos surrounded her, coughing slightly from how fast she took the punishing liquid, and then looked up at a bloody Hawke grinning towards her as he joined her at the bar amidst the chaos, bumping into her affably.

Lyra beamed up at him as she poured another half dozen shots and slid him a few.

"You come here often?" Hawke yelled to her jokingly over the noise, his nose bleeding and his knuckles bloody as he downed a couple shots, and Lyra laughed out loud, holding her fourth shot out to cheers with him, a random man toppling over the bar beside them from Anders throwing him.

"Hey!" Lyra yelled, shooting the hit of liquor she was holding before pointing with her dripping shot glass to their raging mage friend. "Not at the bar!"

Anders nodded to her impatiently, slumping next to Hawke briefly and taking one of the shots Lyra was continuously pouring before running off to jump into the fray again. Lyra shook her head, head buzzing from the booze, and the brightest smile bubbled up from her chest as she leaned against Hawke's broad arm, yelling up to him so he could hear her over the noise.

"You're the best, you know that?" she giggled, the successive shots buzzing through her hard, and Hawke looked down, meeting her gaze with his smiling blues before shaking his head.

"I don't know, I fucked that up, the diplomacy, pretty fast," he chuckled, and Lyra shook her head.

"Fuck those guys. I don't know what, what came over me, I just… just, couldn't..." she searched for words to describe her helplessness but just drank another shot instead. Hawke's arm wound its way around her shoulders again, and she immediately rested against it.

"I know you can handle yourself, I just…" Hawke shook his head and kicked back another shot, angrily slamming it down on the bar in front of them. His arm tightened around her shoulders protectively, the feeling like security. Lyra turned to him, then, with his arm still around her, and slipped her arms around his midsection, bringing her face into his shirt and giving him a hug.

 _Hearing him call me 'my girl', was…_ her insides shuddered. _Even if it was for show, he…_ she asked out loud what she was thinking from the alcohol coursing through her, wiping away all her caution.

"You think they really believed it?" she mumbled into his shirt, and he lowered his face to hers to hear her properly. His body had stilled, somewhat, but remained comfortable.

"Believed…?" he asked, his other arm coming to complete their embrace. He squeezed her closer and Lyra sunk further, shamelessly burrowing into his arms with the world in chaos around them. Lyra felt a half-smile come upon her lips, raising her face slightly so her nose brushed his collar, memorizing what it felt for his hands to be holding her shoulder and lower back.

 _Alright Aedan, I'll say it._

"Believed that we're together," she whispered. She felt, the slightest skip in his heartbeat, the slightest intake of breath, the slightest…

"Well…" Hawke breathed, one of his hands running up her back slowly, his fingertips gliding up under her hair to tickle the skin on the back of her neck, making her shiver. His voice was low, low enough so only she could hear. "If they hadn't, I would have just, had to prove it to them."

Lyra swallowed, gut dropping from how he said that, in that voice, in her ear…

She pulled back slightly, just so she could open her eyes and look up at him.

 _Gods_ , his eyes bore into hers so attentively, watching, asking, _seeing_ , an eyebrow starting to rise from how long she was staring at him…

"I don't know," she started, sitting up slowly and looking away aloofly. She sat up straighter, reaching to pour another glass, before eyeing him sideways, raising a challenging brow. "I don't know, if you could have convinced them."

She casually took another shot, feeling the liquid confidence swirl through her like the intoxicating substance it was, and feeling Hawke's eyes like how she had always wanted him to look at her.

"Really," Hawke cocked his head, biting onto her challenge like she knew he would, and leaning closer to her to reach for another shot as well. She glanced up at him when he brought the glass to his lips, and his deep blues stared at her the entire time he drank the liquor and set the glass down, his intensity making her shiver again. His voice was low, reaching somewhere deep within her. "I'll have to prove myself, then."

Just then they were both pushed forward by a random stranger being shoved into them, rudely being reminded they were still in the middle of the bar fight they had started. Hawke pushed the man away from Lyra with a growl, standing from the stool to bring an arm up around her as he quickly scanned the room for any more interruptions. Lyra stood from her stool as well, her chest a hair's breadth away from his, and looked up at him, meeting his wide eyes only inches away from hers.

She raised a hand slowly, resting it softly on the side of his jaw, before slowly running the pad of her thumb across his upper lip, wiping away the stray blood from his nose. He stilled, stopped breathing, blinking, swallowing, his blues flitting between hers and a glint entering his gaze. His lips parted slightly from shock and she lingered a second longer, her eyes flitting down to glance to where she caressed him. The feeling of his lips and his breath and his bristly stubble made her visibly shudder, and there was nothing she could do to try and hide it.

She let her hand fall to his chest for a moment, before stepping away, moving around the bar covered in their empty glasses and holding onto the counter top as she steadied on her drunken legs. She strode towards the back door that led to the side alley, feeling the heavy blue gaze rake her back before she looked over her shoulder to meet it.

"Need some air?" she let a flirty smile slip as she sauntered over to the door, her knees trembling from how he was just looking at her, like he wanted to… _Gods, does he really? Does he also feel this?_

She felt him before she heard him, his hard chest pressing against her back as she was turning the handle. She let out a small gasp as he pushed them outside together impatiently, the night cold and dark compared to the Hanged Man inside, and the door shut behind them, cutting off the light and noise, leaving them in a dark silence-

She turned and looked up to him and reached for his shirt as his hands rose to hold her face, and everything in her body just _stopped_ as he bent to her and pressed his lips against hers with urgency.

She let out a sound and returned the pressure instantly, weight melting away in her chest in relief as she _kissed_ him, finally _kissed him_ , her arms wrapping around his neck and chests rubbing against each other and his quiet moan in pleasure-

Hawke stepped into her, pushing them back, back, she stumbled back and grasped him for support until she hit the brick wall behind her and his lips crushed into hers. She let out a moan, her voice swallowed immediately by him, their lips parting for each others' effortlessly as their kiss deepened with their need. Hawke pressed her into the wall with his body, her back and the back of her head against the hard brick from how he kissed her, his hands gripping her waist as his legs pushed against hers.

Lyra tightened her hold on him, kissing him back with the same ferocity, panting from how _hot_ they had become, how his forceful lips released hers to claim her jawline, the side of her neck, nuzzling into her as he _suckled_ -

" _Aedan_ ," she gasped, feeling the sharp perfection of his teeth on her heated skin. She needed to feel, to feel _more_ of him, his rough hands touched her where the rest of his body could not, she pressed her breasts and her hips against him, the friction so _rough_ that she couldn't make up from down. Her fingers dug into his hair as he assaulted her with pleasure, her lips finding his collar and her tongue tasting the familiar scent of the man she felt the pressing need to _receive_.

One of his legs parted hers; his knee shoved between hers to hit the wall so that his upper thigh rubbed her most sensitive and intimate area. Lyra flinched in shock from a wave of pleasure that tore through her before immediately raising her leg up his side to welcome him closer, their lips finding each others' again like lost magnets. Hawke's breathing was rough, their panting growing louder as his hand left her waist to run down her leg rising to hook around his hip. Her waitress skirt and apron were hitched up as her legs were parted, and she kissed him like she would never kiss again, nipping his bottom lip and spurring him further, faster, _harsher_. His strong fingers gripped her thigh tightly while his fingers grazed her breast, and his hips pressed her into the wall, her gasp spurring him to kiss her deeper, hips needing to meet, hands grasping where they could, all of it _incredible_ and all of it _not enough_ …

"Lanyra…" Hawke whispered against her lips before kissing her again so earnestly, his arms suddenly decisive. One hand held her thigh, and the other reached down for her other. Lyra barely held onto his neck as he lifted her, still pressing her against the wall, now with her legs straddling him and his hands supporting her by gripping under her thighs. Her skirt was hiked up and hung from her hips, baring her legs to the cool night air, the raw skin of her inner thighs rubbing against his leather belt and her only intimate barrier her thin undercloth. Their lips and tongues battled as he grinded into her, causing them both to moan together into their kiss from the natural alignment of their lower bodies.

"Please, Aedan," Lyra panted her plea, hooking her legs around him and cradling his head to hold on, his lips finding her neck again as he grinded against her so perfectly, shooting a wave of pleasure deep through her from the pressure and friction and heating every last inch of her as he bit down on the soft and sensitive skin on the side of her neck…

Suddenly the door to the Hanged Man burst open with a crash, flooding the alley with light and the noise from inside, causing both Hawke and Lyra to jolt in shock when a familiar drunken voice sounded.

"Ah bloody tits, this room's taken," Isabela slurred, and Lyra clung onto Hawke as he shakily lowered her so she could stand on her own feet, both of them struggling to catch their breath and pull their tangled limbs apart. By the time they both turned to face the door, Isabela had already shut it again, cutting the side alley off from light and noise once again.

Hawke let out a breath and leaned against the wall, turning to her immediately, worried and overwhelmed blues finding hers as Lyra just struggled to stay standing. _Gods, I, he's, his eyes are so, his arms, he just…_ Lyra slumped against the brick wall next to him, heart still hammering, her legs shaking from the shock her body just went through. She blinked up at his concerned gaze in a daze, and watched fear enter his expression.

"Maker, what did I...? Lanyra, are you okay? I…" he let out a shaky breath and shook his head, "I can't believe, I just…" he reached out and helped steady her, except the feeling of his hands grasping her arms, like they had just been gripping her thighs, _oh spirits_ , made her legs even weaker…

"I'm okay," she whispered, smiling slightly and resting a hand on his chest, but he was shaking his head, concern radiating from him.

"We just drank so much, you're- I, shouldn't have, _Maker_ …" he shook his head, backing away from her slightly in panic, whispering, "I'm so sorry, Lanyra, did I hurt you? Did I…" his cheeks were red, from the liquor and from the heat, and Lyra quickly shook her head, forcing herself to stand from the wall, giving him a reassuring smile.

"No, don't worry, Aedan. I'm, only stunned," she breathed, taking a step forward to close their distance, clutching onto his lopsided shirt and letting her forehead fall onto his shoulder, needing a moment for the world to stop spinning. "I don't think, I can serve any more drinks tonight, though," she murmured, her head foggy, and she felt Hawke's arms come around her, though leaving a little distance where he touched her.

"Let's go back inside, and either find a room, or wait to sober up before heading home," Hawke said shakily in a low voice, and they made their way to the door together, both wobbly, the distance of six or so feet feeling like a trek, and they opened the portal to the blinding light of inside with the drone of loud voices, both Lyra and Hawke stopping in their tracks from the overstimulation.

"Elgar'nan, give me strength," Lyra whispered, squinting around the bar to find the aftermath of the bar fight. Tables were toppled, chairs were broken, glass and groaning bodies littered the floor. _If I leave this mess I'll be fired, so fast._ She left Hawke's side to stumble to the bar as her mind went to survival mode, reaching down behind it to grab a broom and dustpan, knowing the broken glass offered the most danger and figuring that's where she should start. She walked around the bar and into the light, surveying the chaos in front of her, and summoned the remaining of her strength.

"All who can walk, help me clean, or get the hell out!"

She started her rounds of sweeping as the remaining men stumbled to stand, most just leaving and a few stopping to pick up a table. She found Anders among those not quite drunk enough to be useless, and she gave him a smile as he joined a group in flipping tables. Hawke was gathering parts of broken chairs to clear out, and when his gaze found hers, he looked away quickly, his shoulders hunching and his muscles tensed. Lyra could barely process enough with how drunk she was, but one thought pervaded all else in her mind.

 _I need to sober up and confess my feelings to him._

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	15. Chapter 15

**Hello all it's been months! Semester went wonderfully, finally finished editing this chapter. This chapter is** ** _big_** **so please let it make up for the huge delay.**

 **Content Warning: some** ** _serious_** **angst, dark gore, NSFW in the end, all the good stuff in one packaged present :3**

 **Thank you for your patience, I hope all have a restful and loving Holidays :)**

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Hawke gasped out, jolting up from his sleep violently, and banging his head on the underside of the hard bedside table he had been sleeping under. " _Fuck_ ," he cursed, panting and sweating and hot, his vision still flashing from his dream… _tossled red hair, tattooed skin that tasted like flowered incense, her quiet moans as his thumbs rubbed over tight nipples…_

"Fuck," he repeated angrily, shaking his head to try and rid himself of his crude dreams, letting his face fall into his hands after he sat up on the wooden floor. _You damned bastard. You stupid, foolish bastard._

Hawke looked up and realized where he was after blinking around to find Varric's tiny room in the Hanged Man, the dwarf himself still passed out cold on the bed. Hawke's head throbbed painfully, both from hitting the table and from the hangover. _I can't remember how I got here. The liquor must have finally caught up with me and knocked me out, sometime after…_ He grimaced, a feeling of dread tightening his chest and sinking his stomach, mixing with the hot tendrils of arousal that swirled through him every time he thought of her. _After I probably_ _ **fucked up**_ _any chance I had with her. You damned idiot, Aedan!_

Hawke suppressed a groan, slowly remembering details of that dark side alley, remembering his urgency, his _desperation_ , his aggression and his roughness in the way he _grabbed_ her, _gripped_ her, _bit_ her, _shoved_ her against the-, the way Lyra had looked at him so overwhelmed, _I can't believe I acted that way!_

His hands clenched into fists, his heartbeat quickening against his mind's will as he remembered her that way. He shook his head, berating himself for his complete lack of chivalry and class. _She was drunk._ His eyes fell shut in defeat and his brow creased painfully, the feeling of self-disgust swirling through him. _Lyra was drunk, and you took_ _ **advantage of her**_ _. You're no better than those groping men._

He slumped against Varric's bed, his head hitting back against the mattress as he fought off frustrated tears. _You dirty bastard. What a friend you are. She deserves a gentleman, she deserves tenderness, she deserves someone to kneel before her and honor her brilliance. You can't even muster up the courage to tell her how you feel, you just got sloppy drunk and..._

Varric stirred then, a groan sounding from beneath the sheets, and Hawke blinked quickly and tried to gather himself, realizing Varric probably had no idea he had spent the night. Hawke cleared his scratchy throat, swallowing the thick feelings of guilt.

"Mornin'," he said softly, and Varric took a whole half a minute to summon the strength to raise his head and blink groggily at who called.

"Hawke," he croaked, and Hawke chuckled softly from where he sat on the floor.

"I, uh, was just checking out your uh, floorboards," he joked in his own scratchy voice, and Varric blinked slowly, frowning in pain from his own inevitable headache.

"Shit..." he looked around, "Where's Blondie? Or Robin? Or anyone who can heal- I can't even think with this…" he rubbed his forehead before collapsing back down, and Hawke wondered too.

 _Where is Lanyra? I need to…_ he felt tears threaten him again, but his brows came together determinedly. _I need to apologize to her. And I need, to finally be honest with her about how I feel._

Hawke looked over at his friend again, sighing and mustering the strength to get up. "I'll search for some water, Varric."

He gripped onto the side of the bed and hauled himself up to his feet, wobbling slightly and feeling the vertigo turn over his stomach, feeling sick. _It's what you get_ , he told himself again for probably the fifth time this month, never learning after every time getting piss drunk with his friends.

Hawke checked over himself quickly and found he looked halfway decent, his clothes only dusty and wrinkled from sleeping on the floor but nothing dirtier. He stopped abruptly as he fixed his lopsided shirt, the collar brushing against a sore spot on his collarbone-

 _Sweet Andraste_ , he thought to himself as he remembered some more details of last night, his fingers absently massaging the fresh hickey. Where Lyra had bitten him _back_. _I suppose, Lanyra was, a bit rough, with me as well…_

He swallowed and tried to shake away the heat that crept along his skin, trying not to remember how she had felt in his arms, pressed against the wall, kissing and biting his neck as he grinded into her…

 _Damn it…_ he shook his head, so helpless to his feelings and so afraid to feel hopeful. _Focus. Focus. Water._

He made his way out the door of Varric's private room, noting the light through the window telling him it was late morning at best, probably afternoon. He took the stairs down to the main floor of the bar slowly, one at a time, finding only a few passed out people.

The bar was silent except for some soft snores of the drunkards who spent the night. Hawke's gaze scanned the room quickly, not finding red hair and feeling relieved. He trudged over to the bar, finding scattered glasses that still needed to be cleaned, and rummaged down below, searching for some water. _Oh, blessed_ , he thought as he found a large jug, hauling it up to the counter and getting himself a glass.

His head was still pounding when the front door to the Hanged Man was opened, spilling in the afternoon sunlight into the dank and dusty interior of the bar. Hawke shielded his eyes and squinted in pain as a familiar throaty baritone called out.

"Hawke? You in here?" Gamlen called, and Hawke coughed slightly, clearing his throat.

"Mornin', uncle," he drank another swig of water as Gamlen walked into the bar. Hawke looked the man over absently, but then blinked, seeing the signs of stress in the older man's shoulders.

"Of course you're here," Gamlen muttered disdainfully, coming closer and looking around the bar with a sneer. "First place I look. With this sorry lot."

"Did you need something?" Hawke asked bluntly, not exactly wanting a lecture from this uncle with his own long past of irresponsible behaviors and habits. Gamlen nodded, fixing Hawke with a scowl.

"Yes. I can't find your mother. She missed our weekly game, so I checked the manor, and I shouldn't have been surprised you weren't there either."

Hawke frowned, thinking. "Hmm, I was last with her, yesterday morning. She just came in from her travels a week ago; she could have still been too tired to play your game?"

Gamlen shook his head. "No, we _always_ play, and her last letter said she would definitely be there. She didn't say anything to you?"

Hawke thought. "No, but she has been pretty busy lately, and I've been pretty busy lately, now that the whole city is back in business after the qunari."

"Busy, that may be it," Gamlen grumbled, shaking his head. "I just came from the manor, and some roses had been delivered. Leandra may have a secret suitor or something; she never liked talking to me about those sort of things."

Hawke stopped, mid drink. _Wait, roses? Suitor?_ "Wait, what color were the roses?"

"Color?" Gamlen raised a brow. "White."

Hawke's stomach sank, his whole body felt a chill. _White roses. From a suitor. No…_

"Shit," he whispered, shaking his head and meeting his uncle's eyes. "White roses from a suitor. There's been a series of disappearances, each time a woman, after receiving white roses from an anonymous suitor."

Gamlen shook his head, brows coming together worriedly. "You don't think… no way, she wouldn't be _taken_ …" he turned around and made for the door. "No, she probably just, got distracted on her way to Lowtown, or forgot something, so she turned back, I'll just go check…"

Hawke abandoned his water and followed his uncle, fear setting into his bones like the ache in your joints before a storm. "We should take this seriously, uncle. Let's go to the manor and see if we can find any clues."

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The sun was past midday- the three elves had set up the soup kitchen later than usual. _It's my fault_ , Lyra thought with a grimace as she dipped the ladle into the giant cauldron of stew, glancing to her left and right at her companions.

Merrill handed out a bowl to an elderly elf, nodding and smiling. Fenris readied another bowl, glancing up with his preoccupied greens to meet Lyra's gaze expectantly, waiting for her to ladle a serving into it.

 _I'm lucky they came to find me,_ she thought absently as she poured stew into the bowl he was holding for her, the three working in unison like usual to hand out soup to the elven alienage population like they did every weekend. She had passed out behind the Hanged Man bar sometime early this morning, after using the last of her functionality to clean the mess of the bar before the alcohol caught up with her. She was lucky her friends knew where to find her to wake her up in time that she could quickly make a hunting trip to gather meat for the soup kitchen.

Both Merril and Fenris sensed her slower pace, their soft and curious glances letting her know she was off. _It's not from lack of sleep_ , she thought, recalling many hungover Sunday mornings where she hunted and ran on a few hours of sleep from a crazy night previous. _I'm still rattled from-_

She blushed immediately, focusing intently on ladling soup as she remembered last night. _I can't believe… I just can't believe, Aedan…_

"Thank you, Hahren," a young voice called, and she blinked and met the gaze of the young girl in front of her, peering up at her curiously. Lyra gave her a smile and nodded, her heart warming from hearing the term of respect from the young elfling.

"Of course, da'len. Keep your chin up." Lyra said warmly with a glint in her smile, the young girl breathing in and nodding to her. She walked off with a straighter back, her shoulders set and her pace more sure. Lyra smiled absently as her mind whirled.

 _When am I going to see him next? Gods I need to tell him, I finally just need to_ fucking _tell him, but I'm so terrified he was only that way last night because we were drunk, what if he doesn't actually have feelings for me-_

Just then she glanced up and her heart nearly stopped from the shock, she blinked as the man himself strode down the steps into the alienage with his full armor on, looking around hurriedly with an intense alertness in his stance-

 _Fuck_ , his blues found hers and widened when he saw her, her hands almost dropping the ladle she was holding and her stomach tensed like she just took a blow. His hair was a mess, his armor askew, his face gaunt like hers from the lack of sleep and the hangover. His eyes held fear, and yet they still softened the longer she held his gaze. _Someone help me. I love him._

"Good to know he survived the night," Fenris muttered, and Merrill nodded next to her with a light chuckle.

"Our group, in more danger from the parties and the drinking than from _dragon_ hunting."

Lyra's brows narrowed as Hawke got closer, her instincts flaring in alert. _His shoulders, his hands clenching into fists, the lack of all lightness from his expression and from his steps._ She swallowed. _His eyes. Something's wrong._

"My friends," Hawke started in a deadly monotone, reaching the front of the soup line and coming to them. The three momentarily abandoned their bowls and stepped to the side with him, the other two sensing his intensity.

"Hawke? Are you alright?" Merrill asked quietly, and Hawke just shook his head, meeting the three's eyes with his worried ones.

"My mother's missing. And white roses were delivered to the manor, just like those few cases of kidnapped women in the last year."

Lyra's stomach sank with dread, her hand coming to clutch at her chest. "Have you any leads, lethallin?"

"One," he said softly, meeting her eyes earnestly, looking so lost she felt the pull to comfort him. "A trail of blood, a few alleys over. Anders is already on his way to meet us. Would any of you, please…" his voice was so soft, and the three all nodded immediately, and Fenris took a step forward.

"I was a fool and left my weapons and armor in Hightown. I could run…" Fenris looked ready to, but Hawke shook his head, giving him a worried smile.

"No, thank you but stay here, these people here need you too."

"I'll be quick," Lyra said over her shoulder before sprinting over to her place, Merrill running over to hers to grab her weapons and armor as well. _Gods, please let Leandra be alright. Oh Gods…_

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 _Maker, please. Maker, please. Maker…_ Hawke's mind looped a plea to whatever higher powers were above as he sliced down dozens upon dozens of abominations. He grunted as he took a hit and blocked another shade in front of him, the gnarled face of the twisted corpse snarling at him before he hacked the head off.

They were in an underground lair in the bowels of the city, the dwellings of a mad mage. A fireplace blazed in front of an armchair piled with books, the stench of rotting corpses and something unnatural permeating the air and making it hard to breathe.

They were following the trail of blood, bringing them through lab rooms with dismembered corpses, the few slips of paper he spared the few seconds to read all mad ravings of a serial killer.

 _This can't be happening_ , he thought over and over again as he plunged his sword into the last standing shade, its roar deafening as it dissipated. Merrill was murmuring to herself, looking around her with fear and disgust in her eyes, and Lyra lurked quietly along the books and equipment, looking for clues. Hawke registered Anders healing him, but he couldn't feel anything.

"We must be close," Anders said before drinking another lyrium potion, and Hawke looked the others down quickly as they moved to continue on. A sort of deadened feeling had started to set in Hawke's bones, like rot. _Maker, please._

He lead his friends into another hallway, this one much larger and much longer than the rest. "Ahead!" Merrill yelled, and they quickened into a jog, reaching a grand room with another large fireplace and set of couches, random bookshelves making this dark haunt look like a home, a single armchair facing away from them but a person obviously sitting in it-

"Who's there?!" Hawke yelled, drawing his sword and advancing cautiously, his friends fanning to his sides as he approached the chair from behind. The person, the woman who sat there was sitting so still, and as Hawke came around into view-

 _Mother?_

Leandra Hawke sat in the armchair, pale and as still as marble, dressed in a wedding dress and veil, a thick row of fresh and fleshy stitches across her throat, her opened eyes deadened and the _wrong color-_

Hawke's sword clanged against the floor and he took a shaky step back, shaking his head as the horror grew the longer he looked at her. She had been _stitched together_ , with the arms of someone else and the legs of another, her body a misshapen array of stitches and rotting flesh-

" _No_ ," he whispered as his friends came to see, and the sickest voice rang out from behind them.

"You made it," they all turned abruptly, the man walking out from a cave flocked with corpses on his either side. He sneered at them, annoyed, but still filled with ecstasy, his eyes bright in madness. "You'll get to see me finally reunited with my wife."

The man snapped his fingers with a spark, and behind them the corpse of Leandra twitched alive, its arms flailing as it stumbled to stand.

"You _sick bastard_!" Lyra yelled to his left but Hawke couldn't even blink, his gaze just fixated on the miserable abomination that wore Leandra's face.

 _Mother?_

" _Sick_? I am a _genius_! I have done the impossible! I have touched the face of the Maker and _lived_!"

Hawke heard the familiar sound of Lyra's bow releasing, and suddenly everything around him was moving so fast, Merrill spinning her staff to his left and Anders building wards to his right, abominations spilling into the room from every door while corpses crawled their way up out of the ground…

" _Hawke_!" Merrill screamed at him and he flinched, tearing his eyes away and scrambling to pick up his sword, the motion around him feeling like nothing at all and his body lagging a few seconds behind his mind. _Fight. Fight. I have to fight._

Hawke raised his sword to block an attacking corpse at the last moment, but could only blink as it snarled and tried to claw and bite him, his eyes fixating on the row of stitches holding its rotting head to its neck, the string holding it together taut as it strained and struggled, the fleshy wound so like the one holding his mother's head…

A bloody dagger point plunged through the back of its head from behind, and as it died and fell Hawke blinked at Lyra standing in front of him in her dark leather, turning to guard him as a wave of shades came his way. Hawke couldn't focus- he heard shouting, he heard screams. He felt the dull pain of a something knocking him down and a corpse clawing at his grieves. A pressure at his side, then wetness, like the side of his ribs were soaked with water but he couldn't move, just struggled on the dirty ground. _Mother?_

 _Mother?_

 _Where am I?_

 _What's happening?_

 _Mother, where are you?_

Suddenly he was sitting up and all of the enemies were dead around him. His friends panted in exhaustion and he struggled to his feet.

He looked around, lost and numb, searching, searching for his-

He turned quickly to see her stumble towards him. Time slowed down as he reached his arms out and caught her as she fell, sinking to his knees with her as she collapsed.

"Mother, mother…" he shook his head, his voice broken, his mind still too shocked to form tears. He laid her head on his lap, her body failing, her lifeless eyes struggling to stay open. "Don't move, mother, we'll find a way to…"

"Shh, don't fret, darling," she rasped quietly, and Hawke's heart felt like it was ripping in two, hearing her voice. She couldn't focus her eyes but her expression smiled at him warmly. "That man, would have kept me trapped in here. But now, I'm free."

Hawke was shaking his head, his thighs, his hands, his forearms soaked in blood as his mother bled out of a body that wasn't hers. "I'll get to see Carver again, and your father," she whispered with a smile, though her body writhed in pain. "Aedan," her hand twitched upwards, tearing at the seam with her wrist, wanting to hold his face, and spilling blood onto his chest. "My little boy, has become so strong. I love you. You've always made me, _so, proud_ …"

Her hand fell and her body lie still, and Hawke's vision blurred. _What? What?_

 _What?_

He blinked and realized he was standing. He blinked and realized he was walking, leaning on someone's shoulders. He blinked, and realized, he was outside again, and it was raining.

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The rain thundered around them in waves, the sound drowning out Lyra's thoughts.

Lyra panted tiredly, her heart so heavy, her leather soaked from the rain and from blood as she and Hawke finally neared his manor. _He's in shock, I need to get him inside_ , she thought, her mind overriding to healer, her large friend leaning on her heavily as she lead them to his front door.

"Aedan, rest here for a minute," she murmured as she leaned him against the wall, glancing up to see his eyes still glazed over, the rain running down rivulets through his hair and down his cheeks. She rummaged through his belt pouches, sifting through grenades and whetstones and finally finding the large key.

It took her a minute to wriggle the door open and guide Hawke through it, both of them soaking wet as she sat him on the foyer bench.

She snapped her fingers to start a fire in the main room, and quickly stripped off her outer leather, setting it up to dry. She glanced over Hawke worriedly, just sitting in a daze and completely unresponsive, his head lowering to look down at his blood-covered hands. The rain had washed most of it away, but much of his mother's blood remained on his front.

Lyra nodded to herself and finished undressing, moving to start on her friend. She worked away at his armor ties with nimble fingers, undressing him and setting his own armor and sword out to dry. She coaxed him to stand so she could remove his grieves, and he leaned on her, his mind so far away she had never seen someone so distant and disconnected from their body before.

She lead them through his house, winding through the hall slowly towards his bathroom. When they got there she sat him down on a stool, making sure he wouldn't topple and nodding to herself when he had enough unconscious balance to remain upright without support.

She drew water into the bath, wrapping her hands around the faucet and heating the water with magic so it filled the small room with steam. She glanced over and found Hawke blinking slowly, a lost and worried expression on his face, his eyes searching but not seeing what was in front of him. She came to him and he blinked up at her, his hands reaching for her as she got close. She murmured sweet comforts to him and met his hands, running a hand through his hair and looking him over for any injuries Anders may have missed.

"Let me help, lethallin," she said softly, knowing he needed to be cleaned of the blood. She untied the front of his tunic, the whole front of it streaked with red, and lifted his arms to get it off of him. _Shit_ , a huge bruise on his side at the base of his ribs, the dark color telling her it was deep. _I have so little mana left, and we finished the last of the potions. This isn't threatening, but it must hurt._

His pants were soaked through as well, and Lyra coaxed him out of those with some effort, leaving him mostly bare save for a loincloth.

"Forgive me," she whispered, blushing and swallowing and wetting a rag with soap and hot water, and beginning to wash him, starting at the top with his chest. She scrubbed him gently, washing the rag with the hot bath water, running over his hard chest and abdomen with clean water. She held his forearms and washed him of the battle grime, briefly scrubbing his thighs and shins until he was clean.

She undressed herself as well, leaving on the small breast wrap and her own loincloth, not wishing to be offensive to her vulnerable friend who was already in shock. She quickly cleaned herself of the blood and grime, glancing over to Hawke often in concern.

His blues slowly started to focus, his brows together in confusion and his hands reaching for her if she stayed away too long. Lyra came to him, reaching down to hold his face as his eyes blinked up at hers, slowly, slowly coming to.

"Lethallan…?" he whispered, and she nodded, smiling at him warmly.

"I'm here, Aedan. I'm here."

She caressed his cheek before urging him to stand, and lead him out of the bathroom after grabbing a towel.

She brought them to his master bedroom, the bed familiar to Lyra from her times sharing his sleeping space. She swallowed again as she ran the towel over his broad form, drying him so he could sit on the side of the bed without getting it wet.

"We…" he started, and Lyra looked up and met his gaze worriedly, helping him to then sit on the bed. His eyes blinked up at her, able to focus a little more. "I, you… didn't have to…"

"Shh," Lyra quickly dried herself as well, feeling more self-conscious of being mostly bare to him, now that his spirit was returning. She walked over to his dresser, and opened a few drawers, finding him a robe and grabbing one of his large shirts for herself. She slipped on his tunic and came back to him, his eyes blinking up to hers.

"Thank you," he whispered, receiving the robe she handed him, and slipping it on himself.

"I'll grab some water," she murmured, padding over his carpet to the kitchen, feeling a little vulnerable walking through his quiet manor in nothing but his shirt, quickly grabbing a glass of water before padding back.

She slipped back into his bedroom quietly. There he sat on the side of the bed, slumped over, with his head in his hands. Her heart broke from the sight. He heard her enter, so he raised his head, and met her eyes with his piercing blue gaze, fully returned and feeling.

"Thank you," he whispered again, and she shook her head, coming to sit at his side. _What can I say?_ She felt her chest constrict in pain, the pain her friend was feeling a physical ache within her.

She looked up at him, and watched so many different emotions suffuse his expression. There was so much tight tension in his shoulders, and along his arms, all the way to his clenched fists resting on his thighs. She closed her eyes and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His voice shook in a whisper.

"I wasn't there for her. Just like, I wasn't there for Bethany."

Lyra raised her head and looked at him, brows coming together and her voice earnest. " _No_. Do not say that, lethallin."

His face lowered even further, the strain along his form palpable. Lyra gently reached for one of his fists, resting on his leg. He let her hold his larger hand, and as her cool fingers soothed his strain, he slowly unclenched his fist, interlocking his rough fingers with hers. She pressed her forehead into his shoulder, wishing she could take all of the pain from him. Her voice was so soft, and full of grief. "This was not your fault, Aedan."

He shook his head, his hand squeezing hers tightly. "It's all too much, Lanyra." he brought his face closer to hers, his voice laced with pain and fear. " _I can't breathe._ "

He seemed to crumble, hunching over, and that was when she first felt him begin to shake.

"Aedan?" she asked tenderly, slowly moving to face him. She gently placed her hands on his cheeks, feeling his rough beard, in contrast to his vulnerable eyes. When they rose and met hers, she saw his tears, and in an instant she fit into his arms, rising to her knees to hug his head to her chest. He immediately returned the embrace, wrapping his burly arms around her midsection and holding on to her tightly, and burying his face into her collar. She felt him shake, and she held him closer, running her fingers through his hair comfortingly. After a few moments, he continued to silently sob into her, his body so afflicted with grief they had a hard time staying sitting upright, so she pulled away slightly.

"Come." she told him gently, and held his arm and pulled him with her. She guided him onto the bed to lie down, and she lay down next to him, reaching to hold him while he reached for her, and he buried his face into her collar again, Lyra cradling his head in her arms as they laid among the sheets. He clung to her as his sobs racked his body, his arms tight around her ribcage, his tears staining her collar, their legs slightly intertwining. She felt the warmth of his body radiate into her bones, the heat of this large muscled human warrior, and she held him dear, feeling his waves of anguish shake them. She stroked his hair, she whispered his name, she held him as close as possible and he held on to her back, his firm hold around her severe.

They lay like that for a while, but Lyra didn't care in the slightest. It felt amazing to just lie in each others arms. _I would hold you for a lifetime if you needed it, lethallin._

He had stopped shaking, and his breathing was returning to normal. Lyra nuzzled his forehead, and he shifted his face slightly, rubbing his nose against her collarbone and brushing her skin with his rough facial hair. She suppressed a shiver from the intimacy, and continued to run her fingers through his hair soothingly, very happy that his pain had subsided. His arms were still locked around her ribs, with a hand holding the center of her back and the other wrapped around her waist. Lyra sighed deeply, feeling so comfortable in his sheets and with the pillow they shared, with her chin resting against the top of his forehead.

His heart beat steadily against her, his breathing regular and soft, every part of him relaxed. Lyra's eyes slid closed, feeling so pleasant and warm within his embrace, that her own breathing and heartbeat steadied. The fatigue and exhaustion of the day finally caught up with her, the adrenaline gone and replaced with peaceful rest. They drifted off into the fade, each feeling safe. _I am here for you, Aedan. I am here for you._

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Hawke breathed in deeply, rousing away from his colorless dreams. His mind had made hazy images of his mother, along with the sound of her voice in her final farewell. Despite the bitterness of his dreams he felt rather comfortable lying in his-

 _What-?_

Hawke's eyes flew open, seeing immediately the bright red of Lyra's hair, right in front of his face. He sucked in a breath, his whole body flinching as he realized he was spooning her from behind, his arm firmly wrapped around her waist and his form curved around hers so intimately. _Maker._

She shifted slightly in his arms, sighing deeply and snuggling back into his chest with a hand resting on his other arm, acting as her pillow. A tingling sensation bloomed in the center of Hawke's chest, warming him and waking him further. She still slept soundly, her breath slow and lazy. _This is real_ , he assured himself, blinking and recalling the last night, both the horror and what followed after.

 _My mother is gone,_ he closed his eyes, feeling the wave of pain, but his grief not nearly crippling him as it did last night. _I was not okay_ , he recalled, somehow making it home thanks to his friends, _No_ , thanks to _Lanyra_ , _she helped me, washed me, was there with me when I came to._

Hawke tightened his arm around her waist just thinking about it. Her slender and strong form fit comfortably in his arms, her hair so soft as her head rested on his bicep. His nose was already filled with her familiar scent; the far away burning wood smell, with the freshness of herbs and flowers making him snuggle closer. _Maker it feels incredible to hold her like this. Should I wake her, though? Should I pull away?_

Hawke frowned and stilled, sudden uncertainty and doubt filling his mind. _What if she would not want to have me holding her like this?_ His arm had wrapped around her waist while he was sleeping, his hand tucked under her ribs, just below her breasts... His ears burned and his chest fluttered again as he tensed up and stilled, thinking he should pull away, but their bodies were so close, their limbs so intertwined that his movement would-

"Mmm?" Lyra hummed softly, shifting a bit, her fingers unconsciously tightening their hold on his forearm. Hawke's heart jolted as Lyra stilled, and he could feel her sudden intake of breath against his own chest.

Her hand slowly reached for his hand holding her waist as she started to turn, not too quickly that she was offended or afraid, but her startled gaze found his as she peered at him over her shoulder. He was _frozen_. Hawke's gaze was wide as they stared at each other for a moment with their faces inches apart, his eyes locked in her beautiful widened blue-greens, and he suddenly removed his hand from her waist quickly, swallowing and blinking at how close she was.

"I-... I just, ah, I'm so, sorry forgive me-..." he fumbled, so distracted and overwhelmed by how she hadn't moved from within his embrace. _I love you_ , he thought helplessly as his eyes flitted between hers, her messy hair so soft where her head rested against his arm. _I love you_ , her eyes flitted between his as fear entered her expression, her breathing hitched as she turned even more to face him, _I love you_ , she faced him, their legs rubbing under the sheets, the heat between them burning like fire, her hand coming up to clutch at her chest. Panic filled him as his mind screamed at him to back off, though she didn't pull away either.

 _Don't kiss her_ , he begged himself as he tore his hands away from her and prepared to pull away, aware of how close she was and how close he was to coming undone. _Don't touch her, if she doesn't-_

"I've fallen for you, Aedan."

Time stopped, along his his heart. She stared at him with widened eyes, those beautiful eyes wet and saturated with more fear than he had ever seen in them in all the deadly battles they had shared.

 _I-_

 _What?_

"I should have told you," she whispered again, her voice shaking as she shrunk into herself, looking smaller and smaller as her brows came together in worry. Hawke couldn't breathe. "I should have told you after that night. We were so drunk I don't know if you even remember, but, but you deserve my honesty and-"

" _I remember_ ," Hawke sat up quickly, shaking his head and feeling his chest constrict in disbelief, in shock. "I thought, I thought…" he stammered, looking at her with widened eyes, out of breath and not thinking straight as she sat up as well, still shaking, averting her blue-greens and shrinking further. "I thought, I shouldn't have, you were _drunk_ , I _wronged you_ , Lanyra, I've agonized, I needed to _tell you_ -"

" _Forgive me_ ," Lyra choked out, turning from him and hugging herself, her shoulders shaking as she pulled away to hide her face. "Your mother, I'm _so sorry_ , and I'm making this about me," she crawled out of their covers with his tunic slipping off her shoulder, the tattooed skin shuddering as she looked around at him to show her fresh tears, "It's okay if that night didn't mean anything to you, it really is, I just, I just can't _hold on to this anymo_ -"

Hawke jolted from his frozen state and lunged for her, hand grabbing her upper arm to stop her retreat while the other reached for her cheek and he _kissed her_ , shocking her and making her let out a sound, he _kissed her_ and wrapped his arm around her waist knowing there was _no fucking way in Andraste's great heaven he was letting her go right now_ -

Lyra gasped for air as he released her for a second so he could whisper against her lips. " _I love you_ ," he kissed her again, both of them shaking, Lyra's soft mewls of surprise being swallowed as Hawke blew away all other notions as his grip pressed her to him. Her lips parted for him as naturally as they had the first time they kissed, only now he kissed her with the shockwaves of elation tearing apart his chest.

He pulled away only enough to meet her eyes, teary gaze meeting teary gaze, and he looked between them for a second before repeating, "I love you, Lanyra, and I should have told you this _months ago_."

Lyra panted, tears still streaming but her brows upturning, the sight of her so overwhelmingly beautiful Hawke pulled her closer to capture her lips again. _Is this real?_ He held her cheeks delicately, feeling the wetness and moving his kisses to her cheekbone, _Is this real?_ Her fingers gripped the front of his robe tightly, her voice so soft as she whispered his name, _Is this real?_

Their lips found each other again and their kiss deepened, her hands running up to his collarbone, his neck, to the back of his head to run through his hair as he pressed their chests together, feeling the softness of her breasts through the thinness of his tunic. His heart hammered in his chest, beating against her skin, his hands feeling the lines and muscles of her back as she lightly nipped his bottom lip.

A moan escaped him, and his grip tightened. In a swift movement he pulled her around and pushed her down until he pressed her into the sheets, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the blanket on either side of her while his tongue dove into her parted lips. Her fingers dug into his scalp to keep him there, on her, _on her_ , he was so hurried to feel his body against hers he hadn't noticed how adrenaline was pumping through every inch of him like he was charged with electricity. He was _alive_ , his heart was hammering, he felt such overwhelming _need_ in his blood to feel her, to pleasure her, to show her, to _show her_...

Their lips broke apart and they both gasped for air, their hands still searching and finding, their bodies still pressed together. Hawke opened his eyes to meet her blazing fire, and he whispered while trying to catch his breath. "I was so afraid, Lanyra, so afraid, I had taken advantage of you. That night," he shook his head, his arms shaking from the wave of adrenaline that exploded from his core just thinking about grinding her against that brick wall, "That night was _everything_ to me. _You_ are everything to me," he searched her eyes and found an energy that matched his, a fresh wave of tears falling down her tattooed cheeks as she smiled so happily up at him. She clutched at her chest and let out a breathy laugh of relief.

" _Ma vhenan_ ," she whispered shakily, her hands holding his face as she beamed up at him through her tears, " _I love you, too_."

Lyra leaned up to him, raising herself on an elbow so she could reach him while he memorized the sight of her. _Ma vhenan?_ He felt the energy of those ancient elven words strike somewhere deep within him. Lyra kissed him fiercely, her slender form meeting his with force and passion, his robe coming undone from the movement and her hardened nipples rubbing against his skin through her shirt. Hawke was lost in a thundering wave of arousal; _Lyra I need you, Lyra I_ _ **want**_ …

She pushed him up, meeting his force with the same surge of desperation, and one of her calves hooked around his knee, pulling to buckle him while turning him, using a maneuver so she would come out on top. Her small hands now pressed _his_ chest down, and Hawke felt the back of his head hit his sheets. They both panted, and Hawke could only gaze upwards in reverence and shock, the sight of her leaning over him as she took her position above like nothing he had fathomed before.

She hovered over him, straddling his hips as her hands pressed down on his chest to hold herself up. Her red locks obscured his vision as she leaned down to him, and he met her kiss with urgency, his hands naturally brushing her thighs on either side of his hips. _Heavens_ , she wore no pants under his baggy tunic, the smoothness of her skin making his fingers twitch in shock. The ripples of delirium reverberated in his chest as he decidedly grasped her thighs in his grip, her muscles taught as she suspended herself above him.

" _Lanyra_ …" he moaned before she pressed her lips against his again, her hands slipping the front of his robe apart and her small fingers alighting down over the ripples of his abdomen. He ran his hands up the sides of her thighs and under the shirt, trembling over the loincloth over her hips to lick up around her waist. She was shaking, either from the effort to stay hovering above him or from his touch, either way Hawke felt his hardened member strain painfully against his loincloth as his thumbs grazed the sides of her breasts.

Lyra breathed in sharply, moving her lips to his jaw and nuzzling his face to the side, nipping and sucking on the soft vulnerable part of his neck under his jaw. His shaft throbbed painfully against his tight cloth, his thumbs mercilessly rubbing over her sensitive nipples until she writhed on top of him, the movement causing her to bite down harder where she pleasured his neck.

" _Ah, fuck,_ " she tensed on top of him as he played with her breasts, massaging her sensitive buds with his rough fingers, the soft mewls she tried so hard to supress sending more and more tight pressure to his groin. Her eyes were tightly shut as she withstood his pleasuring touch, her shoulders rising in strain as she fought off the moan threatening to spill out of her. He wanted to _suck_ on her tits, _fuck, Lyra_ , he brought a hand to his mouth to lick his thumb, quickly returning it to her perfect breast to cause her to gasp out with the feeling of slickness on her nipple.

Hawke let out a frustrated grunt, glaring up at his ravishing Goddess above him, her beauty blinding him but his annoyance bursting that she still held herself so suspended above him. His hips bucked up of their own accord, starving for friction, begging for her to lower herself to rest on him, to _ride him, please fucking_ _ **ride**_ _me, Lanyra, please…_

" _Enough_ ," he growled lowly, bucking with his large reserves of strength and causing her to fall forward on his chest, one of his elbows digging back into the bed to push himself to rise as his other arm wrapped around her waist. He sat up with her still straddling him, his arm locking her to him so her chest rubbed against his, angling them upright so her gaze was level with his. Her bright eyes burned as they looked between his, and they couldn't fight the pull they felt towards each other, their lips clashing with insistence.

She let herself sink onto him, the weight of her _finally_ pressing down on his hardened member as she still straddled him so delightfully. " _Lyra,_ " his hands slipped under the shirt, running up her back as her arms wound around his neck. _Please, Lyra I love you, I want you to-_

Hawke sucked in a breath as pleasure shot up through his body, Lyra's hips suddenly grinding against his painful hardness like _nothing_ he-

" _Fuck_ ," his hands clutched her tightly through another shockwave as his head fell forward onto her shoulder, her hips moving on him and teasing him unbelievably. Lyra let out the _softest_ sound, throwing her head back as she rubbed herself on him, and Hawke turned his face to her collar and closed his mouth on her tattooed skin, suckling her and moaning into her as they clung to each other.

" _Aedan, Gods…_ " She murmured breathlessly. Hawke sucked and kissed the side of her neck as his hands fumbled with the tunic she wore, the heat between them blistering with the clothing they still wore. He grunted in annoyance, forcing himself a few seconds without touching her so he could pull the tunic up over her head, her arms trying to assist pulling her messy red locks free. He tossed the tunic the second it was away and felt the center core of him vibrate from the sight of her, his head shaking in awe and his blues locking in her impatient blue-greens. He wasn't allowed a moment to appreciate her as her own hands were pulling at his robe, and he hastily struggled with her at his cursed long-sleeved garment, his growl low as he angrily freed himself from the cloth-

"Aedan?!" Lyra sucked in a breath, and Hawke grasped her chin and went to kiss her but she had stilled, trying to get his attention. "Aedan, you're, you're bleeding…"

Hawke stopped, glancing down to where she was looking, and finding sure enough, a large bruise on his side that was oozing bright red from the cut in the center rubbed raw. His robe was wet with blood, his whole side was stained red and his sheets were splattered, and he hadn't even noticed it.

"It's fine," he dismissed it, not feeling the pain then and not feeling the pain now, and moved his hand to caress her jaw, capturing her perfect lips and locking an arm around her waist again. She let out a noise against his lips but he was _floored_ by the feeling of her hardened nipples grazing his bare chest, his hands never stopping in their-

" _Aedan,_ please," she panted against him, her hand on his chest as he pulled away to look at her. _Maker_ , she was a sight. Flushed skin, tousled hair, the fire still sparking in her eyes…

"You're so beautiful," he whispered to himself, and she grabbed his chin and brought his gaze to hers.

"You're bleeding! Please, let me see," she fussed and raised herself out of her straddle, the distance adding pounds and pounds of weight onto his chest. "I can't believe I didn't see this," she muttered to herself, still out of breath and still flushed, still only wearing her undergarment as she pushed the unmoving Hawke to better see his injury.

"I feel no pain," he protested, waving it away and trying to reach for her again, and she swatted his hands away, glaring him back to be still as she inspected him.

"I will _heal you first_ , damn it, now sit still." she took a breath to focus her mana and Hawke felt a smile tug on his mouth. _She's so beautiful, I can't believe it._

"Twenty-five seconds," he whispered, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of her long hair behind her pointed ear, her focus on his side. She glanced up at him with a question in her eyes. He cocked his head at her. "You get twenty-five seconds and then I'm kissing you again."

The corner of her mouth rose and the spark of mischief entered her gaze. She cocked her head back at him, the challenge in her gaze tickling him somewhere deep, and her voice was just as soft. "How dare you. It'll only take me ten."

Hawke let out a breath, eyes locked on hers, his breathing still rough as his fingers twitched to touch her. _I'm so in love._

Her cool fingers were finishing healing the cut when they heard a faded knock from the other room. They both froze, looking at each other for a moment, before the knock sounded again, louder this time.

" _No_ ," Hawke groaned, reaching for her as she reached for him, his face burying into her collarbone. "We're not home."

Lyra's fingers ran through his hair, the feeling an instant relief like cool water, triggering memories of her comforting him only the night before. Her voice was soft, and worried. "It could be Gamlen."

Hawke's eyes opened, and the sudden dark wave of grief washed over him, making him lean further into her embrace. _My mother is gone. His sister. I need to tell him._

"You're right," he whispered, taking another moment to soak up the comfort she offered him, kissing her neck before pulling away and straightening up. He breathed in deeply, sighing heavily and running a hand over his face. The lightest touch on his arm, he thought he imagined it, but he looked down at a bashful Lyra. She blinked up at him.

"Would you like support?" she asked with wide eyes, and Hawke registered her question.

"Yes," he grasped her hands, bringing them up so he could kiss them, and meeting her blue-greens with a sad smile. "Yes, I want you to come with me."

She nodded with a somber smile, and they got out of the bed together, walking around to his wardrobe and quickly finding clothes to throw on. Hawke lead Lyra out to the living room, the two still disheveled, both padding barefoot over the carpet to the front door. Before they reached the foyer he stopped, turned, reached out and grasped her chin, raising it so he could kiss her. He lost himself in her soft lips for a moment, feeling her support, feeling her passion, feeling her love. He released her, and she reached up and caressed his cheek, smiling up at him with an unwavering peace in her gaze.

"You Goddess," he whispered, still in awe and overwhelmed as he looked between her happy eyes, "You give me such strength, my love."

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	16. Chapter 16

"...yes, thank you, the updated blue-prints are over on the desk, they're ready," Lyra waved one of the workers over to the other side of the large room, her eyes focused on the design in front of her. _Final layer,_ she thought with relief, holding the compass with a steady hand, drawing perfect circles on her plan.

The construction workers buzzed around her on this busy afternoon, today being the day the funding finally came in for the next steps in the infrastructure improvement project. Lyra was gathering together the final list of materials they needed, and her mind was exhausted from working with numbers and _people_ all day.

"We're off to the foundry, Ms. Lavellan," the lead worker waved as he lead his team out the door, and she glanced up and smiled, returning the gesture to the workers.

"Just Lyra," she murmured to herself as she shook her head with a smile, knowing the laborers would never concede in calling her by her first name. _It's almost worse than the constant and relentless, 'Warden'._

She was left alone for the first time today, allowing for her mind to wander to the same subject it's been wandering to for the last few weeks.

 _Aedan. Blast our timing_ , she scowled light-heartedly, frustrated the last few weeks happened to be the busiest few weeks of the year so far and they had had so little time together. So busy, she only had enough energy at the end of the day to make it to her hovel in the alienage and pass out. Her project was nearing its completion, and all the while Hawke had been bombarded with more missions and quests than ever before. Oftentimes they would go on a quest during the day and then another at night, just to have one right after the other the next day, finding a chance to sleep every few days.

 _It still feels like a dream,_ the memory of their confessions, the memory of the _best_ morning she could remember still fresh, still warm. The sight of his beautiful blues, looking at her so lovingly and gentle one moment, then so passionately the next. A shiver went down her spine just thinking about it and she cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly. _Gods he makes me crazy._

Lyra closed her eyes for a moment. _The Templars are getting worse. Meredith has heightened the curfew, doubled the patrols and doubled the arrests, tightened the rations and tries to halt my projects._

The late Viscount had encouraged Lyra's designs, seeing the better health and happiness of the common workers and believing the funding was worth it. Meredith's priorities, however, were direct and specific- crack down on the mages, and keep the city together tightly. Thousands of sovereigns from the Keep's reserves, all from the peoples' taxes were being spent on training and outfitting new Templars, with wage cuts on the service workers and hour cuts for the city guard to be replaced by Templars.

Where Meredith tightened her grip, the mages of the Circle responded. First Enchanter Orsino was a strong and sharp defender of his mages, but Lyra could see his patience and peace-mindedness wither along with his energy and his freedom, the longer and harder Meredith punished.

 _I feel the tensions rise and rise,_ she thought worriedly, knowing Hawke was at the center of it all playing the Champion mediator, never with a moment's rest. She put her pencil down when she heard a knock on the door to the project room, and she looked up to see a messenger.

"Ms. Lavellan, the Champion has asked me to find you," he gestured for her to follow, and she nodded and came to join him, happy she would get to see him.

"Is all well?" she asked lightly, giving the familiar messenger a smile as he led her through the many hallways. He nodded, an excited look in his eye.

"Oh yes, I never thought I'd ever get to see the King of Ferelden in _person_!"

Lyra nearly tripped on herself as a wave of dread flooded her vision. Her lungs locked up so she couldn't breathe, her veins turned to ice, and it was all she could do to continue walking like normal. _What? Alistair?!_

"The King… the King is here?" she whispered, forcing herself to take in a breath. The messenger chatted on about how excited he was, but Lyra could only silently fight off the waves of anxiety and shame crashing through her. _I can't believe… I can't believe he's here, in Kirkwall._

"It's about time, if you ask me," the man whispered to her, shaking his head and glancing around quickly. "City's gone to madness, we all know it."

He led her towards the main hall, and brought her to the large receiving room made for guests of estate. Lyra's heart pounded in her ears, her instincts alert, and her mind whirling. _Does Alistair know? That I'm here? Aedan, what do I do?_

They came upon the open door and Lyra could hear Hawke talking. "...don't know, if I'd ever return to Ferelden, your Majesty. My remaining family is here, as are my companions. Kirkwall is my…"

Lyra tried to focus her scattered breathing. _Alistair_. She had first met him years ago, when she knew almost nothing about the world outside her clan and when she was still barely a young woman. He had been there during her Joining, that fateful day cutting her years short and blessing her with the title and abilities of a Grey Warden. He had followed her lead in the war, been there for her as a faithful warrior, a faithful friend, a faithful lover. Lyra had encouraged him to ascend the throne, claiming his birthright and devoting the rest of his life to their country, marrying Anora to unite the nobles and to face the future with her power and her support. They had weathered the aftermath of the Blight together, fending off nobles, mediating a broken land with its people still in mourning.

Lyra had given him a son, because it was the only way for both of them to continue living today. Becoming pregnant was the only way to circumvent the needed sacrifice it took to kill the Archdemon and end the Blight.

 _ **Is the Prince here?**_

 _Breathe_ , she commanded herself, approaching the room slowly. Alistair's voice sounded just like it had a few years ago; light, but deep, and full of playfulness that could always lighten the mood.

"...shame, Ferelden's loss. But I understand; Kirkwall needs you, more than anything."

Lyra held her breath as she stepped into the light of the doorway. She found Alistair immediately as he looked like a bright beacon, standing next to Hawke in polished gold armor. Lyra stepped into the large room silently, walking towards Hawke with her brows drawn.

Alistair glanced to her, and then did a double take, inhaling abruptly and stopping mid-sentence. Hawke turned as well, and Lyra met his gaze as she walked to his side, seeing the multitudes of emotions and conflict in his expression.

The silence was thick as she stiffly walked into the room. Her eyes flitted between them, taking in Alistair's shock and dumbfoundedness and Hawke's worried hesitation, and she moved to stand at Hawke's side, returning his worried stare with her own. Before she reached him, however, Alistair unfroze from his shock and in a few large strides he surprised her by reaching out and engulfing her in his arms.

She blinked and breathed in sharply when she felt her feet leave the ground, and she _would_ return the hug but her arms were trapped between her and his hard armored chest.

"Lyra, you're...you're _okay_ …" Alistair whispered, the relief evident in his voice, and all at once she felt a huge weight lift off her chest. The shock faded and she closed her eyes and smiled, suspended in the air. _It's so good to see you, too, but, I can't breathe-!_

"Alistair, I am relieved to see you again, but you're crushing me," she squeaked out, and he quickly put her down, setting her on her feet before hastily taking a step back, his eyes bright, face flushed, shaking his head before running a hand through his hair.

"I can't believe this! You're here! It's been…" he trailed off, taking her in, no doubt noticing the subtle differences in her appearance as she noticed the subtle differences about him. Lyra swallowed, the knot of guilt twisting her stomach, looking between his eyes in fear.

"I left without saying goodbye," she blurted out shakily, rooted in her place and peering up at him, watching his face for his reaction. Alistair blinked at her and his brows came together, but only concern emitted from him.

"Yes," he said softly, letting out a sigh and shaking his head, and giving her a meaningful look. "But I understand why." he blinked over to Hawke, standing awkwardly, and cleared his throat, gesturing to Lyra. "I'm sorry, Hawke, I erm, this is Lyra Lavellan, we used to work together-"

"I know Lanyra, your Majesty," Hawke nodded, giving him a small knowing smile, and meeting Lyra's eyes with his curious gaze. He glanced around the room to see there was no one who would overhear their conversation, and lowered his voice a little. "She's told me quite a lot about your time with the Wardens. She is a dear companion to me."

Lyra smiled at him reassuringly and was about to affirm, but Hawke had averted his eyes with a small uncomfortable smile, bowing slightly to Alistair. "I'll leave you two to catch up; I need to grab some food," and turned to leave, his head bowed slightly and his eyes averted. Lyra reached out and brushed his arm with her fingers as he passed, but he only smiled detachedly and made his way out of the hall, leaving her alone with the King.

Lyra was looking where he left worriedly, when Alistair 'hmphed' thoughtfully. "Do you lead from the shadows now? Let Hawke have the title of Champion?"

She shook her head, very aware they were alone, and feeling the odd familiarity of her past settle in her bones. "No, Hawke is a leader, and a good one at that. I found him and his companions when I first travelled here, and I offer my skills for him and for this City. He is easy to follow."

"I really like him, after only five minutes talking to him," he nodded, agreeing, but his smile faded. "So you came here to Kirkwall, right after you left?"

Lyra nodded, the guilt tightening her breath. "Yes. I…" she closed her eyes, brows crossing, hands wringing themselves. "I ran. I ran away, here."

Alistair breathed in deeply, looking between her eyes. "I had a long talk with Anora, shortly after you left. She told me you and her had a long talk, right after Kieran was born."

Lyra nodded, eyes wide, flashing back violently to that time, that fateful conversation. The emotions that were brought back were so strong, she was mute for a moment, reliving that dark memory in the Ferelden dungeon.

" _I agree with you," Anora started, entering the musty dungeon room where Lyra lay, recovering. Lyra sat up quickly, taken aback - no one visited her in her cell, save for the one or two trusted servants who brought her food and rags to wash._

 _Lyra was in hiding, as all mistresses are after they give birth; they are to stay out of sight for a period of time as the newborn is announced to the world, to stray away from rumors of the new prince being a bastard. Lyra was weak from giving birth, and weak from indecision, wracking her addled mind on what to do in the solitary confines of a dungeon._

" _My Queen?" Lyra asked, not sure what Anora agreed with her on. The Queen of Ferelden wore a beautiful blue sequin dress, no longer having to wear the fake baby bump to pretend she was pregnant for the newly born prince. The high nobles in charge took every precaution and thought of everything to be prepared, so that the Prince could have his full rights, and not be reduced to a lower class citizen, as all elves and half-elves are._

" _Alistair talks in his sleep," she started, coming to sit next to Lyra in her grungy dungeon cell. Lyra scooted over, looking at her confusedly as Anora continued. "He's conflicted. His warrior's heart doesn't want to commit to this massive lie, that he'll have to tell the whole world, for the rest of his life and the rest of Kieran's life."_

 _Lyra nodded, watching her, the woman married to her former lover, and cleared her throat, really speaking for the first time in a few days. "This lie is what will give him the best life, the best chance. My-" Lyra stopped, closing her eyes to withstand the nausea that comes about every time she thinks about it, "My elvish culture, my Clan name, my own_ _ **love**_ _, none of it will provide him the life he can have if you claim him," Lyra swallowed, disturbed, but firm, her logic tearing into her pride like a lion making a kill. She blinked away tears, looking up into Anora's thoughtful gaze. "Am I a terrible person?"_

 _Anora shook her head immediately, scooting closer to her on her dirty bed, her voice softening. "No. You are a Hero, Lyra. You saved our world from the Blight, you should be revered and honored for the rest of your life." she faced her further, reaching out to wipe Lyra's cheeks. "Alistair told me about the ritual, about how a Blight can only end with sacrifice. He told me about what Kieran is, and I've realized something, after getting to know you these past months."_

 _Anora's eyes regarded Lyra kindly, almost reverently. "You would make the best mother for this child, I have no doubt. But you also make the best Hero for our_ world _. You are a_ leader _, a_ fighter _, and a_ peace-keeper _, and only you could have gotten us through this War. To see you want to make this sacrifice, leaving your country, leaving Alistair, your closest friend, leaving your name and your title and your newborn_ son _, I have to ask-"_

 _Anora choked slightly, caught up in emotion, before turning fully to Lyra, sliding off the bed and kneeling on the ground in front of her in her gorgeous dress, grasping her hands and looking up at her with glistening eyes, "Am I really worthy of raising your son? Would you really entrust me to raise that beautiful boy, like he was my own?"_

 _Lyra let out a sob, covering her mouth and nodding, squeezing Anora's hand with her other. "Yes. You will be an incredible mother, just like how you're an incredible wife. There's no one I would want more to raise him."_

Lyra took in a deep breath, wobbling slightly in the grand room, those distant feelings rushing into her. And yet she still shook her head, expression straining, peering at Alistair in frustration. "My worst sin in this life is choosing not to raise him."

Alistair's brows came together, his hazel eyes peering at her with a kind sadness, and shook his head gently before stepping a little closer. Lyra's chest brimmed with tears and she clenched her hands into fists at her side, struggling to keep eye contact with her old friend. Alistair shook his head and spoke quietly.

"You did not leave Kieran to me alone." he reached out slowly and took one of Lyra's hands in his own, making her fist soften as he held it gently. She peered up at his kind hazel gaze, and found only happiness as he continued. "I wish you could see it; the sight of Anora sitting by the fireside, holding him to her chest as she softly sings him lullabies. The sight of her tickling his toes until he flails around giggling, and the sound of their laughter, and mine." Alistair shook his head smiling, squeezing her hand in his own. "It's the most beautiful thing, seeing Anora as a mother."

Lyra felt tears slide down her cheeks, and she took in a shaky breath, the relief overflowing her stressed body from hearing Alistair's wonderful words. "I told her she would be an incredible mother." Lyra smiled through her tears, nodding her head. "And you, Alistair, an incredible father. An incredible family." Lyra shook from the relief. Hearing the boy she had given birth to had two parents who loved him was everything she needed.

Alistair nodded, and then gazed directly into her eyes, his honesty like a powerful force, and his smile filling her with hope. "I've come to really love Anora, and we love our son. I miss you terribly, Lyra, and I wish you could stay with us. But know that I would not change anything; I would not change our family."

Lyra covered her mouth to muffle her sob. _Is this real? This is everything, I've ever wanted to hear._

"Thank you, Alistair, that makes me so happy," Lyra got out, wiping her eyes and trying desperately to compose herself, before reaching out to give Alistair a hug. Her friend returned the hug, the two Grey Wardens who ended the fifth Blight reuniting in friendship, even if briefly, in the grand Kirkwall Hall.

Alistair gave her a last squeeze before letting go, his smile twitching mischievously. "Now, _because_ you left us without proper goodbyes, you owe me a drink and a conversation about what the hell you've been up to these past years."

Lyra chuckled and nodded, an idea immediately coming to mind. "Absolutely. You're not going to believe this, but my other job is actually serving ale at the Hanged Man, the best bar in town."

Alistair cocked his head disbelievingly. "Woah, so you're telling me you're up here making designs and building stuff during the day, fighting and following whatever the hell Hawke does sometimes, and then work nights serving drinks? You were supposed to live on the _low_!"

Lyra laughed and nodded, leaning in closer with a smirk. "You're going to love the Hanged Man. Everyone's always way too drunk to remember anything. I have to introduce you to all our friends here."

Alistair nodded enthusiastically. "I'll need a drink, or ten, after talking to all the politicians I have to today. Count on it."

Lyra felt her smile widen, and she nodded. "Shall we go find Hawke? I've derailed your royal visit long enough."

"Yeah, time to get back to it. My advisors are already angry with me for slipping away from them twice today." He gestured to follow after her, and she nodded and led them out of the grand room.

"He'll be in the kitchens," Lyra led the King through an empty hallway, his bright armor reflecting light onto the walls. She looked over at her old friend, the tendrils of excitement tingling in her the longer she thought of Hawke. "Hawke and I, ah… we've, well… I've come to truly care for him."

Alistair's brow twitched upwards as he gave her a knowing smile. "I can tell. Like I said, I really like him already. Consider this old-friend approval."

Lyra smiled at him appreciatively, looking away quickly to hide her blush. _I already know he's going to tease me to no end about this once he's drunk_.

They made their way through the hallways of the Capitol building, passing respectful nobles and bowing servants. Lyra recognized most of the elven servants, waving and getting small smiles as they passed. Alistair mentioned it while they took some stairs down to the kitchens below.

"You knew all the servants in Denerim, too."

Lyra gave him a smile and nodded. "I've lived in the elven alienage since I moved here; the community is close, and strengthening. If you'll still be in Kirkwall Sunday, you must join us for a meal."

Alistair nodded as they descended the dark steps of the servant's stairway, the walls and floor not as polished as the ones the nobles use. "I appreciate it; I honestly have no idea how long I'll be here, but if I am you can count on it."

They made their way down the winding dark stairways, weaving around servants carrying trays and brooms, until they approached a very noisy and brightly lit kitchen.

Walking in they were bombarded with dozens of voices talking over each other and the bustling of dozens of servants running around doing various tasks, the sheer amount of people stopping them in their tracks. It took about 10 seconds for everyone to notice the golden King standing awkwardly in the servant's entrance, and the once loud kitchen became silent as all pairs of eyes flew to Lyra and Alistair.

Hawke blinked at them from where he sat on a table in the middle of it all, holding a sandwich. Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably, giving the silent room a smile.

"Sorry, uh, to barge in like this, hello everyone," he nodded to Hawke, "Lovely kitchen, we're just here for Hawke."

At once, all the servants resumed motion, continuing on in whatever direction they were heading, the workers having no extra time to stand around. Alistair and Lyra weaved around the busy workers, making their way to Hawke.

"That was quick," Hawke said lightly, and Lyra gave him a smile, coming to sit right next to him on the wooden table.

"Yeah; figured we'll catch up later once we're all at the Hanged Man together," Lyra smoothly leaned up towards him and gave him a kiss on his cheek, making Hawke's eyes widen and his face to redden. His wide blues blinked at her hopefully as his posture relaxed some, and Alistair began poking his nose around the various pots and pans with freshly cooked food.

" _Man_ something smells good in here," he murmured to himself while Lyra laid her head on Hawke's shoulder and smiled, watching the eccentric King being led by his stomach. Her gaze shifted to an approaching woman, the older elf looking flustered with her bouncy hair messy and her apron stained.

The head cook sauntered up to the crew with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows drawn in a glare. "Hawke! Quit bringing your friends into my kitchen!"

The three turned to the lady, and before any of them could say anything, her kind brown eyes alighted on Lyra and her smile widened into a grin. "Well well well, if it isn't Hawke's special _friend_ , hello my dear, I'm Olivia," she reached out and took Lyra's hand.

Lyra blinked and smiled, a blush forming from how the woman smirked at her light-heartedly, before glancing up to Hawke to see his blush as well. "A pleasure, Madam Olivia, I'm Lyra."

The chef then turned to Alistair, regarding him kindly, and the King gave the woman a smile. "I'm Alistair; I'm so impressed with your kitchen, ma'am, that bread over there smells _heavenly_."

Olivia softened and gestured, "Well aren't you a sweetheart, Alistair dear, you go on and get some now, I don't want to see you leave without some, you hear?"

Alistair perked up and nodded, beaming. "Thank you, ma'am!"

Olivia then turned her attention back to Lyra, clicking her tongue in approval and clapping enthusiastically. "What a beauty. Hawke honey, I'm impressed."

Hawke stuttered, "Ah, oh, yes, um, this is, well-"

"Your eyes are so beautiful up close my dear!" Olivia waved away Hawke's protests, reaching up to lovingly stroke Lyra's hair. "You've done good for us in the alienage; I've never had a chance to thank you, but you're like our own Andraste, speakin' up for us elves and gettin' our traditions back afoot," she lightly caressed Lyra's cheek like a grandmother would, and Lyra was at a loss for words from how comforting this woman's presence was.

Olivia then pointed at Hawke sitting next to her with her thumb, her tone turning scolding while her eyes kept their teasing warmth. "And I'd bet a whole week's pay you keep this sweet oaf out of trouble, am I right?"

"Yes ma'am," Lyra giggled, thoroughly charmed, while Hawke stammered. "I-I don't get into _too_ much trouble, Madam Oli-"

"And you bring this sweet, beautiful young lass with you on your wild adventures?! Oh I've taught you nothing," she leaned in to Lyra with a playful grin, "Though he _can_ thank me for teaching him a thing or two about wine, I hope it went well with your curry."

Lyra gasped and smiled, nodding. "Oh yes, it was wonderful, thank you!"

"I'm glad. Now I _told_ this boy no funny business while you two were drinking that fine wine, and oh you should have _seen_ him get all hot and bothered the more I asked about you-"

Hawke sputtered, trying to get a hold of himself. "Yes, yes, thank you Madam Olivia, we're sorry for holding up your kitchen, we'll be on our way," and he moved to get off the table, face flushed. Olivia cackled as Hawke tried to usher Lyra and a charmed Alistair out of the kitchen, Olivia hollering lightly after them.

"So that was, um, the Kirkwall head chef, your Majesty," Hawke chuckled awkwardly as they made their way up the cramped dark stairwell.

"Please, oh Maker, just Alistair," he chuckled back, patting Hawke's shoulder affably, giving him a grin. "That was everything I needed, I have the energy to handle some more politics now."

Hawke nodded in understanding, smiling back behind them towards the kitchen. "I love Olivia; feel free to pop down there whenever it gets too much up here with the nobles, she understands."

They emerged into the hallways of the capitol, and Alistair turned to them both. "Time to return to my advisors. We must see each other tonight, the Hanged Man, was it? In Lowtown?"

"Yes," Hawke grinned, meeting Lyra's gaze, unable to hide the subtle longing in his expression. "We've been so busy for weeks; tonight, we'll offer you the same honor a new companion gets. Come prepared."

"Oooo," Alistair cocked his head, intrigued, and Lyra laughed, smiling giddily, leaning in and lowering her voice.

"Just let your advisors know you won't be functional until probably late afternoon tomorrow," she snickered, and Alistair nodded slowly, smile growing.

"Good. Good." Alisitair reached out and squeezed Hawke and Lyra's shoulders before turning and walking away, waving behind him.

"I like him," Hawke mused quietly after he left, and Lyra smiled up at him, catching his soft blues, and reaching out instinctively to clutch at his shirt, to which his hand naturally respond by sliding to her waist. The world around them started to slow down, blue eyes and blue-greens saying more to each other in a few seconds of silence than any amount of words could. This was the first time the two had a chance to be alone in weeks, but before either of them could say anything, a messenger approached them, out of breath and looking worried.

"Ms. Lavellan," he panted, and the two unclicked from being lost in a stare to look at the man hunched over to catch his breath.

"Yes, are you alright?" Lyra moved to offer him a hand but he nodded quickly.

"I'm well, thank you; it's the workers for your project, the foundry's infested with those giant spiders again. They are waiting outside like you instructed after last time."

Lyra sobered and nodded, thinking quickly. "Thank you; I'll leave immediately." The messenger nodded and left to go sit down.

"Would you like my support?" Hawke asked her, concern in his gaze, and Lyra smiled at him and shook her head.

"I'll be fine; they're weak to fire and I keep a few homemade explosives on me now in case this happened again. However, _we_ …" she took a step closer, entering his space and making him look down as she looked up. Her gaze flickered between his widened blues, her hand sliding up from his abdomen to his chest, his collar, the side of his neck, his cheek. She lowered her voice, blushing slightly from her forwardness. "We should both wrap up our work quickly, and slip out a little early."

Lyra felt his hands find their way to hold her waist, his face lowering to hers, his facial hair prickling her jaw as he moved to whisper in her ear. His grip on her waist tightened and the feeling of his fingers holding her in place made her heart beat in double time. His voice was so low and deep she felt shivers run through every inch of her body.

"If you don't leave right now, we're finding an empty room, and those spiders will have to wait until we're done."

Lyra let out a breath sharply, struggling to keep her exasperation quiet, her heart hammering, cheeks warming, eyes wide. _Gods, yes, please._ She blinked a few times and breathed in to clear the haze before nuzzling her nose against his cheek, and whispering back, calmly.

"Oh no, you have it wrong; I'd prefer to _savor_ _you_."

In the seconds following Lyra slipped out of his shocked grasp after running a single finger down his chest to his belt. She treasured the moment she allowed herself to take in his hungry look before slipping around him, striding away towards the city. She felt his eyes on her back and swayed her hips slightly before glancing behind.

His blues were like hardened crystals, narrowed and provoked, and yet his mouth upturned in a confident smile. He cocked his head slightly and crossed his arms, tapping a finger impatiently. His eyes said, _I'm waiting._

Lyra had to turn away, continuing towards the entrance, thankful when she turned a corner. Her hands were bunched into fists, her heart hammering in her chest. _I'm this close to losing it. Time to slaughter these spiders as fast as I can._


End file.
